Battle for New Lettucin
by Yed Yeddicus
Summary: Third company have been participating in this engagement with an Ork Horde for more than six months, now with a new threat rearing its head in their direction the Company's days may be numbered. Short to medium length story, do leave an R&R. Based off actual tabletop games.
1. Welcome to New Lettucin

Gunnery sergeant Phelps cautiously pulled himself to the top of the mound of dirt he was behind just enough so he could see over. Phelps had been in the Imperial guard for six years now, and in that time he had seen his fair share of combat. So much so that he had quickly risen through the ranks and reached Gunnery sergeant. This conflict had lasted for six months now and showed no sign of slowing and neither side showed any sign of progress.

The clear star filled night sky above made for easy visibility and there before him lay the mismatching clutter of an Ork camp. Visible from his position were two Ork transports, each unique in appearance yet just as crude looking, and at least forty Ork foot soldiers, many were walking aimlessly around while others sat around a fire eating and laughing loudly. There were several larger sized Orks who sat separately from the rest of the rabble, they each held a different livestock carcass on their person and ate with ferocity.

Phelps gritted his teeth as he felt bile rise in his throat, he could smell the toxic stench of the Orks from here.

He turned back and looked down the mound he had just climbed, the other eight men of his unit looked back up, their expectant eyes contrasting with their black face paint shone back at him.

"Petyr" Phelps hissed, "Up"

Petyr nodded and hoisted himself up from his crouching stance, the large radio system on his back dragging him back as he did.  
He climbed the mound and handed his vox piece to the sergeant.

"Tarantula 2-2 are you receiving" He spoke in a clear but hushed tone into the vox piece, "Hunter 2-1 Alpha ready to deliver report"  
"Receiving clear Hunter 2-1 Alpha" A voice replied, Petyr held his hand over the volume control carefully, "Ready for report"  
"Enemy encampment discovered along grid 3-4 co-ordinates to follow, forty to fifty infantry, two visible transports, numbers suggest scouting party or small expansion force"  
"Received Hunter, fall back to rally point Delta, Tarantula out"

Phelps handed the piece back to Petyr and turned back to the Ork camp. Nothing had changed, the Orks stayed blissfully ignorant.

Petyr slid back down the mound as quietly as possible. Phelps continued to watch the Orks.

He turned back to his unit.

"Move silently, we're going back to New Lettucin, 2 metre spread"

The guardsmen below him nodded in acknowledgement and began to move.

Suddenly a roar of alert was heard from the camp.

Phelps turned so fast that his neck cricked and he winced in pain. Looking at the camp he desperately looked out for what may have seen or heard them.

What he saw was far worse.

An abnormally sized Ork had stomped into the middle of the camp while Phelps hadn't been looking, it was clad in large mechanical armour, a pole stuck out of the top with several Black space marine helmets impaled on it, on its right arm a crude looking rifle had replaced its hand and on the other a large cruel looking claw was clasped around one of the smaller Ork who had evidently been making the noise.

"YA GIT, THINK YOU'D GET AWAY WIV IT?" The large Ork roared at the one in his grasp.

"Sorry boss!" The Ork screeched as the claw began to draw blood, "Snagga told me you were done wiv it!"

"You lyin sneakin grot!" The Warboss growled and with that the claw dug into the other Ork, squeezing and cutting the life from it.

The warboss dropped the Ork body, picked up a large piece of meat that the other Ork had been eating and stomped over to the other slightly larger Orks.

"OW ME NOBZ DOIN DEN? HARHARHAR" His laughter echoed over the camp.

"A Warboss" Phelps hissed down to them.

"Here?" Barak, the squad's plasma gunner replied in disbelief, the leather cover over the heat exhaust glowed dimly in his hands.

Phelps slid down the mound and motioned for them to move.

"If a Warboss is here that can only mean they're a vanguard for a larger force" Barak said in Phelps ear as they moved away into the tall grass.

"Orks don't have that amount of tactical thought, Barak" Dariel half chuckled.

"What would you know of Ork tactics, Highborn?" Barak growled back.

Phelps rolled his eyes as they moved, the squad of eight he had, had been reduced to three original members, himself, Barak and Petyr. Dariel had joined a month before fresh from recruitment and it had soon been public knowledge around the base they operated from that Dariel was from a highborn family and had joined because it was tradition in their family. Of course he would be given a high up position back at a field base far quicker than the rest of them as his Lord father would pull some strings.

Phelps personally did not care where the man came from, as long as they did their duty.

"Not the time Barak" Phelps did not turn back but his stern voice was enough.

"Should we not radio Tarantula, Sergeant?" Petyr suggested.

"Not yet" Phelps climbed over a fallen tree, "Can't risk it knowing a Warboss is with them, they could have some of their blasted Meks with them"

"Would they not have heard us before?" Petyr pressed.

"Hence why we're moving so fast" Phelps grinned as he said it.

Dariel let out a soft chuckle.

The guardsmen disappeared into another patch of tall grass and disappeared again, in the horizon loomed the wrecked buildings that surrounded New Lettucin.

* * *

Nathaniel put down his quill and looked over his work, the report from their last engagement.  
Seven enemy infantry killed, three of their own lost and the flamer that one of them had wielded, it had been destroyed after one of the larger Orks had cut through it and the wielder in one fell swoop.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, he had to get some sleep but the Commissar would expect the report in the morning. He imagined how he must look at that point, his brown hair would be a mess and his face dragged down by the bags under his tired eyes.

Looking out of his tent he could see the command building. The windows had been mostly patched up with leather rags and sandbags to block out the majority of light but he could distinctly see the Commissar's light still on.

He had hoped to be situated in a building, but this town had in the month's prior been the victim of many Ork bombing runs, the burnt out buildings lay testament to this, so there weren't many to go around especially for a throne a dozen Sergeant like himself.

"You awake in here?" A voice from outside said suddenly.

"'Fraid so" Nathaniel smiled recognising the voice.

Grenn entered with a grin, his short blonde hair shining in the moonlight. Grenn had always been well built and even after the exposure to the shockingly bad rations that were shared out in the Guard he had remained that way.

"Still writing that report?"

Nathaniel nodded with a tired smile. Grenn had joined the Guard with Nathaniel the year before and they had both excelled in training to the point of sergeant, Nathaniel had dominion of third squad whereas Grenn had second squad.

"And what are you up to Grenn? Drinking and harassing the female soldiers?"

"Emperor be good!" Grenn laughed, "But no, Second squad are on east perimeter duty tonight"  
"So what are you doing here my friend?"

"Had to run back and get some more drinks" Grenn held up the packaged caffeine packs, "But I had better be getting back, speak to you later"

"Have a good one" Nathaniel lazily waved and looked back to his report.

He remembered each moment but had no idea how to put accurate details on the paper.

"Sod this" Nathaniel groaned, he pushed himself away from his nimble desk and fell into bed.

* * *

Grenn arrived back at his squad, who sat sentinel in the dugout around the Emplaced heavy bolter turret, Jericus at its trigger.

"Have no fear brave warriors of the Imperium" Grenn's voice made them all turn suddenly, "I bring caffeine"

The men laughed and smiled back, they all respected and loved their Sergeant.

Grenn sat next to his chain-sword that he'd left in the dugout and handed out the packs.

Jericus took his pack and opened it quickly, he was extremely tired and was equally afraid of falling asleep on duty. The week before a man he did not know had fallen asleep on watch and had been executed in front of the whole platoon by Commissar Yoren using his beautifully crafted Bolt pistol.

Yoren had not said anything after the man's head exploded in front of him he didn't have to.

Jericus turned to his friend who was tasked with feeding the shells into the large gun.

"E're Conroy, this stuff tastes almost as bad as whatever it was you were cooking on the way here"

Conroy rolled his eyes and continued drinking his caffeine before speaking.

"Thank you Jericus, I shall make sure to leave you hungry next time"

Jericus grinned and looked out where the turret faced. The clear sky's exposed stars illuminated the constant fields of tall grass and hedgerows.

Suddenly a patch of grass moved. Jericus squinted, his mouth agape from sudden terror. The grass moved again.

"Movement!" His voice cracked and he swore in his head. He pushed the turret up against his shoulder and poised the weapon at the field.

Grenn sat up and drew his magnoculars.

"Sawney, Vox"

The squad's radioman hurried past the rest of the men who were already in firing positions along the dugout and handed the vox piece to Grenn.

"Tarantula 2-2, this is Second squad, we have movement on grid 0-2, ready to engage"

"Second squad hold your fire" Tarantula's operator's voice replied, "We have Hunter 2-1 Alpha en-route, could be them"

"Roger Tarantula, holding position" Grenn handed the voice piece back and held the magnoculars up to his eyes.

The hazy green vision that the magnoculars provided began to focus on the now active tall grass and Grenn squinted.

A human face appeared, he immediately recognised the aged features of Gunnery Sergeant Phelps and breathed out in relief.

"It's Phelps" He said to Second squad before picking up the vox.

* * *

The west of New Letuccin had been the most damaged in the raids in the months prior to Third company's arrival. The only building that remained standing was a Religious shrine building, which the Company's Priests had insisted was a good omen. Though they had not been shown nor did they want to see how the Orks had defiled the inside.

New Lettucin had not been evacuated in time in the early weeks of the war and thus the civilian populace had been to their knowledge wiped out, and it was in the shrine building that many pieces of human bodies had been dumped.

It was unknown why the city had been targeted so ruthlessly, as far as Commissar Yoren knew it had no real strategic value or any form of military defence force.

It was concluded that the Orks had no reason, they just enjoyed the destruction and mayhem that ensued once they did launch an assault such as this.

Yoren put down his magnoculars and stopped observing the sector, he looked down at his desk and rolled his eyes. Several dozen reports to read and all would tell him the same thing. NO CLOSER TO FINISHING.

His desk was situated in the middle of what had once been a hab unit, picts and various other personal belongings had been moved to the corner and the bodies of the inhabitants had been removed, every piece.

Yoren had a particular hatred for Orks, as the first time he had ever been deployed into battle some ten years ago his best friend had been cleaved in two by an Ork Biker as it zoomed past. The beast had barely noticed the life it had just ended and had crashed into a nearby Ork walker, sending its ride careening out of sight.

The younger Yoren had driven his bayonet into the back of the creature's head and repeated this action at least seven times, he had become so frenzied that he had not noticed the Ork walker turn toward him. Its harsh buzzsaw like weapon had struck his face and left him with the ugly scar that lay across his face.

"Commissar Yoren" A frail voice echoed through the room.

Yoren looked up to see two robed figures.

One was in a robe of dark red, a mechanical set of legs protruded from the waistline and an augmented set of eyes regarded him brighter than the other.

The other was in a robe of old cotton, his face elderly and in his right hand he held a holy scripture.

"Tech Adept Co-ronal and Priest Haradal" Yoren nodded at each of them in turn and sat up straight, "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"The men you sent out on a scouting mission have returned, Lord" Co-ronal informed him, "I've told second squad's sergeant to send them here"

"Very good" Yoren nodded, "And you preacher?"

"We are holding a service tomorrow morning and we'd appreciate it if you could attend, my lord commissar"

"I will of course" Yoren smiled softly.

The elderly man smiled back and exited the room, leaving the tech adept and the commissar alone.

"You're still here tech priest" Yoren did not look at him, the man was eerie enough to speak with let alone look at.

"I had hoped to speak about the arrival of our Tank detachment?" The robed man clicked and whirred as he spoke.

"And I had hoped you would remember our conversation from the other day" Yoren growled and this time looked the man in the eyes, or what was left of them, "I do not know when they'll push through, last I heard they had been held up in a town north of here fighting another Ork armoured horde, we don't even know IF they will get through"

The tech priest stayed eerily silent before nodding and exiting the room.

Yoren sighed out and looked back out to the west of New Lettucin.

Unknown to the Commissar, five Orks silently made their way through the skeletal remains of the buildings in the north of the town. They passed past the old administratum and into the ruins of an old manufactorum. The five beasts all wore full faced rebreather masks and wore camoflauge, each carried a variety of different blades and pistols. The largest among them sported a large power klaw which it kept open as it moved as to make less noise.

Inside the manufactorum the Orks stopped suddenly. There in the middle of the factory floor lay several humans sleeping, their green armour dirty and their faces hidden by their helmets.

The leader of the Ork unit paced silently towards the unaware guardsmen and positioned the Klaw either side of the nearest one's throat.

It nodded at the others, who also made their way to the other humans, their blades and axes poised over them.

The leader tensed the klaw and separated the man's head from his shoulders instantaneously, sending blood spraying over the floor.

In unison the other Orks struck their unsuspecting prey, the Guardsmen let out sudden and muted breaths as they died.

The Ork Kommando leader spotted a nearby building that had a light source in the windows and next to that a group of tents.

"Leave none" The gasmask did not hide the maliciousness of its voice, and the other Kommando's sniggered.

They began to move out of the manufactorum, and towards the tents.


	2. Cause and effect

Nathaniel woke with a start. He looked over to the door of his tent and listened. The slightest thunk from outside, the noise was that of heavy footsteps, not just one set at least three sets.

The footsteps were far to heavy sounding to belong to any of his men.

He reached under his foldup bed and grasped his laspistol, he aimed it at the door while with the other hand he fumbled around in the dark for his chainsword.

Suddenly the tent's door slowly began to open, the hand was dark and barely visible but already he could see it was far too large to be a human's hand.

"Orks!" He roared before he fired off three shots from his laspistol.

The shots illuminated the tent and struck the large hand at the tent door several times.

Following this was a muffled roar from outside, then the large form of the Ork that had been sneaking in came tearing through the door, a large axe covered in blood held high. It charged and he fired off several more shots, they barely seemed to phase his attacker.

The ork was soon upon him and the sheer force of the beast sent him and his bed flying through the other side of the tent wall. He rolled on the grass but clenched his grip on his pistol.

Outside he could now hear screams and roars of other men fighting off their attackers.

His own assailant was towering over him now, the axe coming down toward him, he rolled to the side and continued to roll even after the axe had landed in the ground where he had moments before been lying.

The ork rounded on Nathaniel who was now on his front, he forced himself up, he turned towards the Ork just as it swung the blunt side of the axe at him, the blow hit him in the face, breaking his nose immediately, the blow was followed by a sudden and violent kick from the Ork.

He stumbled and cried out, the wind had been knocked out of him and he lay bleary eyed on his back, his face covered in blood.

Nathaniel desperately tried to force his body back away from the Ork.

The beast stamped down on his chest, causing him to cry out in pain and wheeze.

The Ork looked down at him, its eyes full of malice, hatred and what chilled him the most; Joy.

it raised its axe once again and swung down.

It happened so fast, but the Ork was suddenly thrown to its side before its swing could land, Grenn wrestled it as he lay on top of it, he raised his own combat knife and drove it into the Ork's throat, blood sprayed from the wound and it screamed out in pain and anger.

Another Sergeant ran over to Nathaniel and dragged him up.

"Nathaniel? Sergeant Nathaniel?" The man's voice seemed distant.

"Yes Gunny" Nathaniel coughed back.

"Dariel!" Phelps yelled, "Get Sergeant Nathaniel to the Command building"

A younger looking guardsman with Dark hair grabbed Nathaniel and began to help him away from the fallen Ork.

Distant and echoing cries of pain and roars of Orks became more and more distant as Nathaniel took each step.

"Sergeant? Can you hear me?" Dariel waved his hand in front of Nathaniel's face.

Nathaniel's vision began to blur and darken; he fell to the floor and passed out.

* * *

"Barak!" Phelps yelled, Barak looked over and Phelps pointed out one of the last Orks who were now fleeing the camp.

Barak aimed his plasma weapon and fired.

The blue salvo illuminated the immediate area and zoomed after the Ork, it struck the beast in the back, sending it slumping to the floor.

"Is that the last of them?" Petyr yelled out, still scanning the area with his lasgun.

"Agh!" A scream from a couple of tents over answered Petyr's question, the guardsmen all ran towards the source of the sound.

They ran past three ripped up tents before they found the source.

A larger Ork with a sparky claw infused with its arm was stood over several Guardsmen bodies, their corpses covered in violent looking gashes and their faced covered in blood.

The Ork turned towards them and snarled.

Barak fired his plasma gun, the blast struck the beast in the chest, causing it to stagger back with its chest aflame.

"Satchel charges!" Phelps yelled, the plasma had lit several of the crude looking explosive devices upon the Ork's chest.

The Ork realised the danger and laughed, it ran towards Barak laughing all the while.

Barak fired again and this time the blast caused the Ork to explode, the explosives on the Ork's body all exploded in unison and sent Barak flying backwards.

A large smoke cloud rose from the explosion and blocked Barak from Phelps' vision.

"Barak!?" Phelps cried out into the smoke before running towards where he thought Barak may have gone, Petyr followed.

Barak lay on his back, his plasma gun was still in his hand, four metres behind him.

As well as his arm from the elbow down being separated, his leg had a load of shrapnel peppered into it and his entire front was covered in blackened soot, his face was contorted in pain and his eyes remained closed.

"Barak.." Phelps mumbled as he walked towards Barak's ruined body.

"Throne of Terra…" Petyr swore and stood still, dumbstruck. Petyr and the Gunnery Sergeant had seen their fair share of injuries, and many men had been killed in the squad, but Barak had always been there.

Barak coughed up a gulp of dirty blood and pitifully cried out.

Phelps cradled Barak's head and looked up at Petyr.

"Call a medic"

"Sergeant…"

"CALL A MEDIC" Phelps roared.

Petyr sprinted towards the command building, leaving Phelps with Barak.

Barak coughed out again, his escaping breath painful and strained.

"You're alright Barak, you're alright" Phelps was reassuring himself just as much as he was the ruined man before him.

* * *

Nathaniel reluctantly opened his eyes, a bright light caused him to squint and hold his hand up.

"The sergeant is awake" A voice to his right said.

"ugh" Nathaniel groaned as he twisted on the bed to see who was speaking.

Walking towards him was Commissar Yoren's personal Medic, an aging man who most called 'doc' but his actual name was Frastus Nillion.

"Sergeant Nathaniel Hersem" He softly pushed Nathaniel back into a prone position before moving the light, "How are you feeling?"

"Like a Leman Russ just ran me over" Nathaniel felt up his nose tenderly, it had a bandage over it and still ached.

"Well I'm afraid you'll feel like that for some time" Frastus made a note on a clip board, "But you will be able to return to your squad tomorrow"

"How long have I been out?" Nathaniel yelled out as Frastus began to leave the room.

"Seventeen hours" Frastus disappeared from the room.

* * *

Co-Ronal had just finished his latest augmentation process. _This human could use more augmentation _he thought to himself.

The Medic Frastus had worked on the guardsman through the night, after he was stabilised he had immediately been sent to Co-Rolan's quarters for an augmented arm.

The man known as Barak still had not woken and Co-Rolan wondered if he ever would.

"Tech priest" Doctor Frastus' voice came in from the door.

"Yes Doctor Frastus?" Co-Rolan tilted his head when he spoke.

"Commissar Yoren has ordered our presence in his office"

"Lead on, Doctor" Co-Rolan abandoned his patient and followed the Medic out of the room.

When Frastus and Co-Rolan entered Yoren's office, they saw they were not the only one's who had been summoned.

In the room also stood Sergeant Grenn of Second squad, Gunnery Sergeant Phelps of first squad, Sergeant Vern of Fourth squad, Sergeant Debra of 7th squad and the elderly form of Priest Haradal. Commissar Yoren sat at his desk and stood when they entered.

"Now that we're all here, we must discuss the events of yesterday night" Yoren said in a stern tone, "How is it these Orks bypassed out security?"

"I checked the bodies of the Orks" Grenn spoke up, "They wore camouflage like uniforms, and the loose metallic pieces of their gear had been covered in a rubber like substance to stop them making noise"

"You're telling me these Orks infiltrated into the perimeter and silently took out our units?"

"Until Sergeant Nathaniel raised the alarm, Yes sir" Grenn nodded.

"Is it possible there are more Orks in the town already? Waiting for the sun to go down before striking?" Doctor Frastus asked.

"Implying these Alien beasts harbor intelligence in their minds is near heretical" Priest Haradal shook his head angrily.

"Orks are meant to be simple" Phelps shook his head, "If they are starting to show this level of tactic and planning then perhaps my squad's findings the other night can be confirmed"  
Yoren grimaced.

"First squad found a medium sized force accompanied by a Warboss last night" He informed the rest of them, "One of his squad members put forward the idea that this is a vanguard force softening us for a larger force to come"

"How large is this vanguard?" Sergeant Vern asked.

"Forty to fifty infantry, light vehicles" Phelps replied.

"We need our armour" Vern said.

Co-Ronal perked up.

"This is true" His augmented voice caused everyone to suddenly look at him, "The omnissiah provides us with these wonderful machines, we must make use of them"

"As you already know, Tech Priest" Yoren growled, "Our armoured division is held up East of here in the town of Pirpryt"

"I could take a chimera up there and try to link up with them" Vern suggested.

"I could accompany the Sergeant" Co-Ronal said with a tone that sounded hopeful.

"Do you think that's the best course of action?" Phelps snorted, "We're undermanned as it is, and you want to take one of our last remaining Chimera's and an entire squad?"

"I will only take ten of my men" Vern said defensively, "And if I succeed and return with our armour division then it will definitely be worth it"

The Commissar pondered his options for a moment.

"We will struggle to survive against this vanguard force without our tanks, let alone another larger force after that" Vern insisted.

"Very well" Yoren finally said, "But you will take **five** members of your squad and the Tech Priest here north, attempt to link up with them and tell them of our situation"

"I thank you, Lord" Vern saluted, "I will set off immediately"

Vern walked quickly out of the room, Co-Rolan right behind him.

Yoren turned to Phelps, "Gunnery Sergeant, I hear your man Barak will survive"

"Yes, the Doctor was just telling me" Phelps smiled, "He's a lucky guy our Barak"

"He'll receive a medal or two for the acts of bravery he has committed in the recent days, you can be sure of that"

"Let's just hope he's back in shape by the time these Orks arrive" Phelps grimaced.

"It was nearly too expensive to save him you know. Augments aren't the cheapest thing in the world"

"Well I assure you he is worth it" Phelps said defensively.

"Everyone is dismissed" Yoren said loudly turning away from Phelps, "Prepare your squads, and make sure you're vigilant for more of these Orks who are infiltrating"

The Sergeants gave their salutes and exited the room.

* * *

Sergeant Vern walked over with Co-Rolan to his twenty-man squad and looked amongst them.

"The following lot are coming with me on a mission North of the city" He yelled, they all listened in anticipation, "Dab, Mikey, Herax, Urta, Lyra, you're up"

The four men and the woman who had been named stood up and started grabbing their weapons and gear.

Lyra carried a melta gun and was the first to walk up to Sergeant Vern. Her dirty face had a determined smile upon it, and a piece of her hair hung over her forehead from under her helmet.

"Where we goin Sarge?" Her low gothic accent always made Vern smile.

"We're heading North of here to Pirpryt, we need to link up with our armoured division"

"We've been waiting on them for a while eh?" Herax walked up behind Lyra.

Soon all the soldiers who had been called on were gathered, and Vern led them towards where the company kept the Chimeras.

The detachment had only three remaining Chimera class transports remaining. They had originally come to New Lettucin with six of the sturdy vehicles as well as a Hellhound and a Sentinel lifter unit. The patrols that had been sent out often took a Chimera with them for supporting fire and to cover more ground. One such patrol had discovered a small Ork artillery emplacement less than ten miles from New Lettucin's border, the emplacement was soon reported to have fired on the city of Venesqua which was another seven miles west. The city of Venesqua had fallen to the Orks and it was estimated that more than six hundred Imperial Guardsmen died. In light of this news the Commissar had committed two Chimera's with their respective squads, the hellhound and the sentinel to eliminate the Ork post.

The exact story was never properly relayed as none of the men who set out returned, but judging from the frantic radio messages the Commissar received it seemed that the emplacement had gotten reinforcements and the force he had sent were utterly destroyed.

The third missing one was lost while out on Patrol as were 5th squad led by Sergeant Quinn.

Vern recalled the dangers of heading out into the open plains with these vehicles and grimaced as he noticed the battle damage on their remaining three.

Stood next to the least damaged Chimera was Co-Ronal and a man who Vern recognised.

"Harlem" Vern smiled.

Harlem turned to Vern and grinned.

"Sergeant Vern, it's been too long my friend" Harlem shook Vern's hand.

"We saw each other last week you bastard" Vern laughed.

"For us that may as well of been a lifetime" Harlem winked, "We've got the beauty ready for you" He beckoned the sergeant towards the Chimera.

Vern followed, as did the rest of his squad.

Harlem ventured inside the Chimera and turned back to Vern.

"All six side mounted weapons working, the multi laser on the front is a bit stiff but it can still throw out shots all the same"

"And the tracks? What speed we looking at?" Lyra piped up.

"Not a thing to worry there my lady" Harlem walked back out of the Chimera, "Checked the links myself, and Co roram here can vouch.

"Co-Rolan" Co-Rolan corrected him.

"Right" Harlem rolled his eyes, "I understand that Co-Ronan here is going with you also?"

"That's right" Vern regarded the tech-priest with a questioning look.

Co-Rolan returned his gaze with a symphony of clicks and whirrs originating from his neck.

"You driving, Sergeant?" Harlem asked.

"Of course I am, Harlem" Vern said with heavy sarcasm, "Who're you giving me?"

"I'm giving you two of my best my good man" Harlem grinned again, "Flair is your driver and Gaius will be operating the rest"

Harlem turned and whistled with his fingers before yelling; "FLAIR, GAIUS, GET OUT HERE!"

Two men in hastily worn uniforms ran out from behind another Chimera, both holding bags loosely in their hands and helmets in the other.

Flair had scraggly ginger hair and was quite skinny, his uniform barely fitting him and the name FLAIR marked on it was barely visible from the dirt.

Gaius was the polar opposite of Flair, he had bulging muscles that were visible due to his uniforms sleeves being ripped, he was bald and had a large scar down the side of his face.

Vern looked them both up and down before looking back at the Chimera.

"When are we going?"

"Whenever you are wanting to, Sergeant" Flair replied,

"Let's get a move on then," Vern said before stepping inside the Chimera, his squad following him in.

"So eager to go, Sergeant?" Harlem joked sadly, knowing full well the risks his friend was taking.

"Better than sitting around here doing the work of Servitors and waiting for the Orks to come" Vern winked.

"See you when you get back" Harlem laughed. Flair and Gaius walked through the middle of the Chimera and into their positions, moments later the back door slowly closed. Harlem sighed.

* * *

Jericus followed the outgoing Chimera with his turret, watching the smoke rise from where the tracks tore along the dirt path that ran between the fields. Jericus often tried to imagine this place back in its prime. The dirt road wouldn't have been a dirt road at all, it would have been solid concrete with vehicles and people operating through it at all hours. The dugout he was currently occupying with the other nineteen men of second squad was probably someone's hab-unit. Where they ate their meals, washed their clothes, joked with friends.

He leaned his chin above the trigger of the high-powered weapon and sighed.

"What's wrong" Conroy half asked, not looking up from his book.

"Nothing" Jericus lied.

"Nothing is supposed to be quiet" Conroy said.

Jericus ignored Conroy and looked at the other men in the trench with them.

All of them were dirty and were almost indistinguishable from the next man. It was certain aspects of them that made them recognisable.

O'Donnel had his hefty Flamer weapon, that he often complained about having to carry around.

Darniel had his spiked helm, a helmet he'd found by the side of the road after an engagement that the Orks had stuck a spike on top of. He often joked that he was actually part of the Krieg regiments.

Most of the other men he didn't actually know by name, sad as it was to say in squads like this men were easily and often replaced and there wasn't much time to become acquainted.

Conroy was the closest thing Jericus had to a friend in this squad, and even he was an ass.

Conroy didn't speak much about his life before the Guard, but what he had mentioned one drunken evening was that he hadn't joined out of choice. Jericus did not repeat this to anyone else, as he did not wish for Conroy to hate him.

Jericus spotted their sergeant, Sergeant Grenn. The man was as ever speaking and laughing with members of the squad, his eyes were tired yet lively and as ever his mouth twisted into a grin.

"Conroy" Jericus said again.

"What, Jericus?" Conroy said with as much enthusiasm as a man would have for his situation.

"If Sergeant Vern does bring back our armoured unit" Jericus recited what Sergeant Grenn had told them all earlier, "Do you think we'll still have to sit out in this trench and stay on watch?"

"Of course we will you fool" Conroy shook his head, "You think the Orks are just gonna think; hmm, I guess we'd better not go there coz dey haz tanks?"

"Well our tanks are pretty powerful" Jericus said embarrassed.

"The Orks ain't gonna think that, Jericus. They're gonna think: ooh, they have tanks, they look like a good fight. Cos that's the only thing Orks give a shit about, Jericus, Fighting. They'll go for whatever looks like the funnest thing to fight"

Jericus looked down avoiding eye contact with Conroy.

"So in conclusion, yes Jericus, we will have to continue watching from our trench" Conroy said angrily before looking back down to his book.

Jericus sat in silence for the next hour.

* * *

It was Arashi who woke Nathaniel the next day. Arashi was Nathaniel's squad's flamer operator and one of the longest surviving members of the team.

"Sergeant Nathaniel sir" His high gothic accent was always a welcome sound to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel looked up at him through bleary eyes; he could only see Arashi's black hair and clean face properly.

"What is it Arashi?"

"Doc says you're able to leave the ward now, the squad is waiting"

"Who is left after the attack?" Nathaniel said with dread, realising that he had not even thought to ask Grenn the day prior.

"We lost Ramiro, Horn and Jermat" Arashi said sadly, "Also Trevor and Eli are injured"

"How badly?"

"Trevor took a slugga round to the chest and Eli lost three fingers and suffered a terrible head wound" Arashi grimaced.

Nathaniel forced himself up.

"Where is my gear?"

"Right here, sir" Arashi held up the neatly folded pile of Nathaniel's filthy uniform.

Nathaniel saluted and shooed Arashi away, he then stood and changed into his gear. Upon putting the top piece on, he realised that there was still smears of blood down the front from his fight with the Ork.

He kept envisioning the incident over and over. The large shape of the beast ripping through his tent, his pistol doing virtually nothing to the creature's tough build, and finally the vicious strike the Ork had used against him. If it had had the sense to swing the weapon the other way he wouldn't have been sitting in this room smelling his own blood off of his clothes. He would be rotting out in one of the fields with the rest of the dead.

He walked from the room, nodding at the rest of the wounded housed in the ward as he left.

Outside he saw the tents that had housed his squad half repaired, most of the tents that had been attacked had only sustained minor rips and tears, whereas the crater where one of the Orks had supposedly exploded had left several tents irreparable.

The remainder of his squad stood sentinel waiting, Arashi with them holding his flamer.

"R-ight" Nathaniel said shakily, "We're going to be heading back to our position to the south, it seems that we can no longer stay next to the company HQ, all positions must be covered"  
The gathered men nodded.

"Pack up the tents, no need for us all to freeze to death at night down there"

"Permission to speak, sergeant?" One of the men said.

"Granted, Ravio"

"Some of our tents were destroyed in the attack, sir"

"Some of you will have to double up, four men per tent rather than two, we're lucky to have tents at all." Nathaniel replied, "Anything else?"

Ravio sullenly looked at the floor muttering.

"Move out" Nathaniel said.

"MOVE OUT!" Arashi echoed louder, the men began running over to the tents.

* * *

That night Yoren enjoyed a glass of whisky alone in his office. He sat sleepily in his chair and began to drift off.

Just as he fell into a slumber, the door to his office slammed open, awaking him with a start.

"What in the name of the Emperor-"

"Commissar Yoren" The newcomer was one of his command squad, his vox bearer Cromwell.

"What is it, Cromwell?" Yoren replied angrily.

"Second squad have reported incoming aircraft, east of Town"

Yoren got up immediately, put on his cap and grabbed his bolt pistol. He shoved past Cromwell and descended the stairs.

"Put out the word to all squads to extinguish any and all lights on their persons, no torches no lamp packs no nothing"

* * *

Grenn poised his magnoculars at the sky and watched. He could see three pairs of flashing lights, each a different colour and pattern of flashing moving quickly across the horizon.

"Are they coming our way, Sergeant?" Jericus' voice asked shakily.

"Shut up, Jericus!" Conroy hissed.

"I can't tell" Grenn replied.

"Well you'd better start telling, Sergeant Grenn" Yoren's gruff voice made Grenn turn around suddenly.

"Commissar" He held out his magnoculars.

Yoren took the magnoculars and held them up towards the flashing lights.

"I reckon they're Dakkajets, sir" Grenn said.

"They're not fast enough to be Dakkajets" Yoren said grimly. He followed the lights until he realised they were turning.

"They're turning"

The entirety of second squad squinted and held their rifles tighter. Jericus lowered his head and pointed the turret slightly higher.

It was just a moment, but one of the Ork planes sparked for whatever reason, and it illuminated just enough of it for Yoren to see.

"Burna Bommerz" He lowered his magnoculars, his eyes still looking up at the incoming squadron.

"Men to cover!" Grenn yelled.

"Commissar!" Yoren turned to see his full command squad, Frastus, Cromwell, the aged plasma gunner; Remi and the standard bearer without his standard; Jonn, "We have to get to cover!" it was Remi speaking.

Yoren nodded and jogged down to them, he grabbed Cromwell's vox piece at once.

"Attention all squads, we have Burna bommerz inbound, dim all lights and stand ready at your posts, this could be the Orks' attack force"

"Third squad confirmed" Nathaniel's voice rattled back.

"In position, Sir" Debra's voice was clearer.

"We'll hold the line sir" Phelps' voice was doubtful.

"And us, sir" Grenn didn't speak over the radio.

Yoren and his command squad hurried over to cover and waited, they could hear the engines of the planes now, and the mad cackling of the pyro maniacal pilots.


	3. Stormy with a chance of salvation

The chimera bumped up over another set of holes in the road. Lyra grimaced, that was the third set in under five minutes they had passed, it meant they were getting close.

She looked out of the rifle slot and observed what little scenery she could see through the dark. The odd wrecked vehicle, a fence post, she even saw an old shrine building in the middle of a field with a dozen candles lining the windows.

She shuddered.

If any pastor or civilians were hiding out in there the light would no doubt attract unwanted attention.

Sergeant Vern turned and saw Lyra's face of worry.

"We're almost there" He told her.

"Aye Sergeant" She checked her gear quickly, her heart began to beat faster.

Herax, who was sat at the back of the Chimera, smacked his fist against the ramp.

Urta laughed and breathed out noisily.

"I can see the city limits!" Flair's young voice yelled from the front of the vehicle.

"Whose side of the city are we on? That's the question" Mikey looked at the floor when he spoke.

"We'll go in quietly" Vern reassured them, "Dab you got anything on the vox network?"

Dab tuned his back mounted radio piece and shook his head.

"Nothing yet, its like all signal is being blocked out"

"No shit, Dab" Herax laughed, "If it wasn't we wouldn't of had to drive all the way here"

Dab glowered and ignored Herax, he never took this sort of thing seriously.

"I will attempt to fix this problem?" Co-Rolan suggested.

"Not now" Vern hissed, "We're entering the city"

The Chimera slowed down slightly as it crept into the dark city.

All around the vehicle were both the remains of buildings that had been heavily shelled as well as twisted wrecks of both Imperial and Ork vehicles. Quiet cracks of erratic gunfire could be heard further into the city.

"Stay frosty" Vern said quietly as he positioned one of the hull-mounted lasturrets to face forward.

The transport turned round a street corner and continued further into the city.

"Visual contact, sergeant Vern!" Flair called back, "Battle tank, fifty metres"

"Approach with caution" Vern ordered. He was sceptical, the Orks were often known to take Imperial vehicles that had not sustained much damage and modify them into their own crude "looted wagonz", "Gaius keep that gun ready"

"Aye Sergeant" Gaius replied.

"Get us closer and then stop" Vern turned to the rest of his squad, "Be ready to move"

The Chimera grew ever closer, Flair kept his eyes on the immobile Leman Russ watching for any movement or sign that the Orks had taken it.

The transport stopped completely and Flair turned the engine off. He got up from his seat and opened the small door into the Chimera's belly. The six Imperial Guardsmen and the Tech-priest inside looked back at him expectantly.

"Sergeant Vern" He said in a hushed tone, "We are less than ten metres from the Leman Russ"

"Right" Vern nodded, "Open the rear hatch"

Flair did as he was instructed and the rear door of the Chimera began to lower slowly.

Vern was the first out the door, the night air was crisp and obscured his vision, he quickly made his way around the Chimera's tracks and stacked up along the left side of the hull. The building alongside them was heavily damaged and he could smell something foul and rotting inside, the road they were on looked in terrible condition, craters and rubble strewn everywhere.

The Leman Russ battle tank up in front of the Chimera looked to be in good condition and remained immobile, its turret facing down the long street ahead of it.

Herax was suddenly next to him and behind him were the other four Guardsmen.

"Orders sarge?" Herax whispered.

"Move up quietly two at a time, inspect the Leman Russ then hold position" Vern replied, Herax nodded and relayed the message to the others.

"Urta, Herax, move up"

Herax and Urta immediately began to jog along keeping close to the buildings as they passed towards the Leman Russ. Vern watched them anxiously.

The two Guardsmen reached the Battle tank and stacked up against its side.

Vern held his breath. The two Guardsmen were speaking to each other, he couldn't hear what they were saying but he saw their mouths moving.

He watched as Urta gave Herax a deathly glare before slinging his lasrifle and heaving himself up onto the side of the Leman Russ.

"What are you doing!?" Vern managed to hush himself before he yelled out.

Urta was pulling himself up onto the turret, he then reached into his flakk jacket and drew his knife. After this he promptly tapped loudly on the Turret's hatch door, the sound echoed slightly in the silence of the street.

Vern couldn't believe it. He watched in awe as Urta meekly stood waiting, he had half a mind to shoot the man right there and then.

Before he acted on his irrational thought, the hatch began to slowly open, a light source visible from under the rim.

Urta poked his head forward blocking out the light source, and the hatch opened all the way. A Guardsman appeared from inside the turret and said something in a hushed tone before shaking Urta's hand and grinning.

Vern breathed out in relief, almost collapsing. They had linked up with the armoured detachment.

* * *

Nathaniel held his breath. The sound of the engines over in the east of town grew ever closer. The planes were low. He checked once again that all the light sources in the immediate area were extinguished, they were.

The fifteen men from fourth squad that had remained in New Lettucin had been given to Nathaniel for the time being, they were situated ten metres from Nathaniel's squad in their own trench that they had dug before nightfall.

"Stay low" Nathaniel moved amongst his own squad and checked them all. The men looked back and nodded nervously each time, all trying to hide the fear on their faces, all failing.

He hadn't gone over to fourth squad's trench, but Nathaniel knew they were all in check. All of them were already huddled against the walls of their trench and waiting in silence. Nathaniel finally sat down in his own trench, Arashi to his left.

Suddenly the first plane flew over the city. Nathaniel could make out the broad yellow wings of the crude vehicle and the many missiles housed underneath them.

"Steady" He whispered to Arashi, though he doubted that the man could hear him as another plane soared overhead.

A third one soon followed and passed without incident, Nathaniel heard many men sigh in relief.

"Stay ready," He said, "We're not out of this yet"

Three minutes passed and just as Nathaniel had expected the vox network crackled into life; Sergeant Debra reported that the Ork planes were coming back from the south of town.

Debra's voice crackled across the vox network once again;

"Commissar Yoren, the planes are-"

Suddenly her voice cut off and the ear wrenching sound of Ork gunfire rang out across the small city. Nathaniel grimaced and looked toward the south of town.

The sky lit up with all three aircraft opening fire with their forward mounted machine guns, the noise was atrocious. The heavy calibre shots tore through several of the derelict buildings and caused partial collapse in all of them.

"ALL SQUADS PREPARE FOR IMMINENT ASSAULT" Yoren's voice roared across the network. Nathaniel looked at his squad who were all looking to him.

"Hold fast, prepare for assault" Nathaniel shakily echoed the Commissar's words.

Toward the south of town the machine guns had stopped and the bright explosions of the planes' missile payload could be seen illuminating the streets.

"Commissar Yoren" Debra's voice came over the radio, "The Orks missed us, I don't think they know we're here"

Nathaniel stared up into the night sky and watched the flashing forms of the Ork planes. The forward machine guns opened up again and streaked across one of the taller derelict buildings causing one to collapse entirely.

The planes banked and began to head back toward the south of New Lettucin again.

"They're making a pass," The sergeant's voice said quietly over the vox.

Nathaniel watched as they passed over where they had fired before, several sudden screaming noises followed by a puff of smoke came from under the front plane's wing. Following this was three large fiery explosions in the street, which rose above the buildings there. The planes soared over the explosion and away from the city once more.

Nathaniel heard the screams then. Dozens of bloodcurdling screams from where the missiles had struck"

"Commissar" Sergeant Debra's voice was desperate and weak now, "I was wrong."

* * *

Commissar Yoren and his command squad went sprinting down the streets, escorted by several members of second squad. It had been five minutes since the Ork Planes had disappeared from above New Lettucin and they had finally thought it safe enough to go and investigate seventh squad's fate.

Frastus had already unclipped his medic pouch from his belt and was running faster than the rest of them.

They reached the street which seventh squad had been tasked with defending; the persisting fires of the missiles lit the entire street. The command squad made their way over the backup trench that had been made in case the forward one should fall and towards the front.

Upon arriving Frastus was the first to see seventh squad. The trench had sustained a direct hit and much of it was still aflame. Several partially burnt men were lying outside of the trench and there were only three or four men out of the trench walking from body to body.

Frastus knelt next to the nearest man, his face blackened and much of his skin missing, his eyes were sealed shut and his neck was covered in singe marks. The man was dead.

Frastus breathed in slowly and began to make his way toward the men who weren't injured.

"Sit-rep" He ordered.

One of the Guardsmen turned, a young man, his face blank and tears visible in his eyes. Frastus looked at him expectantly, the man stared back.

One of the other guardsmen helped the younger man to sit down and spoke reassuringly in a hushed tone; he then stood back up and looked at Frastus.

"Private Hemm, Sir" He saluted, "We've taken a major hit, sir,"  
"How many" Frastus asked grimly.

Hemm turned and regarded all the men lying around him.

"Fourteen, fifteen" Hemm gulped as he spoke and looked into the fiery inferno that had engulfed the trench.

"Your sergeant?" Frastus asked.

"She's over here," Another man yelled out.

"She's with Lewis" Hemm beckoned Frastus toward the man who had shouted out.

The two guardsmen hurried over, the smell of toasted flesh all around them.

Frastus crouched next to the prone body of Sergeant Debra Keeli. The front of her was blackened and she had several burn marks on her face and arms that lay bare now. She lay on her back with her eyes barely open.

"Sergeant Keeli?" He said loudly, "Can you hear me?"

"Yes" She coughed out.

"I'll need help bringing her back to the company CP" Frastus said not looking up from her.

"What about our post, sir?" Lewis said.

"You really think you two and the other three able bodies here will be able to stave off an Ork attack?" He said angrily, "Get me something to carry her with, now"

Lewis and Hemm nodded and ran quickly towards the nearest building.

Yoren walked up behind Frastus.

"Will she live?" He asked.

"She just might" Frastus replied as he applied a bandage to one of Keeli's burnt arms.

"How many?" Yoren said as he looked over at the torched bodies next to and inside the trench.

"They reckon fourteen." Frastus finished off the bandage and secured it tightly.

"Nothing you could have done five minutes ago, that you could have now, Frastus" Yoren said.

"If you say so, Lord" Frastus replied bitterly.

Yoren usually would have punished such impudence, but he knew how Medics operated. They always blamed themselves in this sort of situation or indeed any situation involving the wounded and the dead. Minutes before, Yoren had denied Frastus from coming over here until they knew that the Ork Bommerz weren't coming back.

Lewis and Hemm came stumbling back over carrying a stretcher.

"Looking on the bright side, they didn't hit our supply area" Hemm nodded over at the nearest building.

"There is no bright side, boy" Frastus glared at Hemm causing him to look away, "Get the sergeant on the stretcher, carefully"

Hemm and Lewis obeyed and hoisted Keeli carefully onto the stretcher.

Frastus grabbed the younger guardsman's shoulder and shook him, the terrified lad turned and looked at him.

"Get up, now" Frastus growled. He let the guardsman go and turned back to the other two, "Get her up and back to the CP"

"Aye Doc" Hemm and Lewis said, the two of them lifted the stretcher and began to carry the Sergeant down the street.

Frastus looked around at the scattered charred bodies. His heart was heavy and he felt bile rise in his throat, he felt terrible for thinking this but the bodies smelt awful and many were still toasting in the inferno that was their trench.

"They probably died screaming" He said out loud, speaking to no one in particular yet he knew the entire command squad listening, "Screaming and reaching out for someone to help them."

"Frastus" Jonn said sadly, "There was nothing you could do for them."

Frastus wiped a tear from his eye and sniffed. He walked over to another man who looked in slightly good condition and knelt beside him.

He had been a medic in the Imperial Guard for eight years now, he had fought in campaigns against a variety of enemies spanning from Chaos cults to the dreaded Tyranid menace, but watching young men die helplessly never got any easier. He silently damned the Commissar for not letting him attend to these men sooner, he damned Jonn for saying there were nothing he could do, he could have at least sat with some of these men and made sure they didn't die choking and gasping for their last breath alone.

Yoren grimaced and grabbed Cromwell's vox piece.

"Sergeant Nathaniel"

"Aye Commissar?" Nathaniel's voice crackled back.

"Send fourth squad down here, they'll man seventh squad's backup trench until Sergeant Vern returns"  
"Right away, sir"

The sun rose in the distance as fourth squad arrived; all of the men grimaced and avoided staring as they saw the bodies lining the trench ahead of them. The rest of the command squad had gone, but "Doc" Frastus was still there attending to the wounded, his jacket lying alongside him and sweat covering his forehead.

* * *

Vern awoke to the sound of voices, dozens of voices and a bright light. He opened his weary eyes and sat up. He was in the back of the Chimera and the rear door was open. Outside he could see dozens of Guardsmen walking around and could hear even more talking. Inside the Chimera with him were Lyra, Dab and Flair who were all still sleeping.

He stood up and walked out of the Chimera and was immediately greeted by the sight of a classic Imperial Guard gunline.

Lining the end of the street his Chimera was parked at were sandbags with a Leman Russ at each end, two Heavy bolter turrets and an Auto-cannon turret were situated along these sandbags and were both manned by two men. Sat against the sandbags were at least twenty other guardsmen; some sat casually speaking and eating while others had their rifles pointed down and across the crossroads which he realised they were set up in front of.

Behind this gunline was his own Chimera as well as two others with their own respective squads set up by them, the large form of a Hellhound sat idly by, two men and Co-Rolan were working on the heavy flamer turret and further back still he could see a command tent with a line of sandbags blocking the back of it.

"Tech Priest" He called up.

"Sergeant Vern." Co-Rolan did not look up from his work when he spoke.

"You seen Mikey, Herax or Urta?"

"They were around here somewhere Sergeant."

"Helpful."

Vern walked through the crowd of bustling Guardsmen behind the Chimera and made his way towards the tent.

When he realised he couldn't spot them amongst all these new faces, he entered the tent.

Inside he found Herax and Urta, both sat on field chairs next to a bearded Sergeant wearing his casual uniform, all of them drinking from flasks. The tent itself had little in the way of tactical gear apart from a flimsy looking wooden table with a map in the middle, small crates of grenades and las packs littered the floor and a small calendar lay on the floor in the corner.

"Sergeant." Vern regarded the bearded man.

"This your sergeant?" The bearded man asked Herax.

"Yeah, sir" Herax smiled and put down his drink.

The bearded sergeant stood up and extended his hand to Vern, Vern took it and the man squeezed his hand.

"Sergeant Hughes at your service, Sergeant…?"

"Sergeant Daniel Vern." Vern replied.

"Vern eh" Hughes let go of Vern's hand and sat back down, "Draw up a chair, your lads here were just telling me why you're here"  
"Are they now?" Vern looked down at them both, "Where's Mikey?"

"He's off talking with some of their lot" Urta replied.

"Who is in charge here?" Vern said to Hughes.

"I am" He replied.

"No, who's in charge of the force in the city?"

"I'm in charge of the force in this city"

"You?" Vern said with doubt heavy in his voice, "Where are your commissars? Your officers?

"Gone" Hughes said with a sadness, "I took up the mantle of commanding the forces in this city"

"How can that be? How can one Sergeant command the forces in a city as large as this?"  
"Might be due to the fact that this lot here plus another twenty infantry and three Chimera's to our rear is all that's left in this city"

Vern looked at Hughes in disbelief.

"What?" He said dumbly.

"We've been out here with no reinforcements for three months" Hughes stood back up, "The Orks have been throwing everything they've got at us. I'd been hoping you were the recon for the force sent to relieve us."

"We came here to take our armoured division back to the town we're occupying" Vern said, still in disbelief.

"The two Leman Russes and the Hellhound outside are all that's left from the armoured division that was sent up to support us, the rest of us lot are a different company"

"I can't believe this" Vern put his hand to his head.

"Not hard to believe really" Hughes crossed his arms, "We've had no support."

"You had our armoured division!" Vern's voice suddenly rose, "six Leman Russ battle tanks and three Hellhounds were there to help push the Ork forces back, are you seriously telling me they're all gone bar three?"

Hughes glared and nodded.

"How could this happen?" Vern sat down on one of the chairs and put his head in his hands.

"The Orks blocked all comms." Hughes also sat down, "We couldn't call for help, and you know how spread out the Guard is on the planet, the nearest lot to us is you lot south west of here and even that's a day's journey. The Ork that blocked the comms, a huge beast of a Mek, it bought with it a lot of walkers and anti tank fire. Men said some of the Tanks they had to leave behind were taken to this Mek and forged into something of their own creations, they literally used our own weapons against us."

Vern immediately began to feel bad for how he had reacted to the news. The look of regret and anguish in Hughes' face was heart wrenching.

"We lost a lot of good men," Hughes sighed, "Our Commissars died quite early on, one of them were killed by one of the Warbosses, cleaved in two like he was nothing"

"Look, Hughes, I'm sorry" Vern said, "Its just we're in a similar situation. We have an unknown size force heading towards us and we have no support"

"Your comms jammed too?"

"Actually no" Vern said puzzled, he suddenly began to wonder why Yoren hadn't called for support from one of the back operating bases.

Hughes suddenly clicked his fingers.

"I have a surprise for you boys" He said, his mood changing for the better.

"What?" Herax said.

"We found remnants of a squad roaming the land outside the city about a month ago, they said their Chimera had come under attack and after staving off the Ork raiders who attacked them, were left with no transport"

"And this is relevant?" Vern asked.

"The squad is from your company, Sergeant Quinn? You know him?"

"Quinn is alive?" Vern gasped.

"He sure is! Been a great asset to us over here, here I'll take ya to see him"

* * *

WRITER'S NOTE:

Ok guys thanks for reading do leave an R&R, I appreciate the feedback, you may notice by the - - - - - - lines im trying to format this as best I can, hate the lack of layout control but whatever, THANKS for reading, more to come soon :3


	4. For whom the bell tolls

Sergeant Richard Quinn dreamt the same dream that had haunted him for the last month once again. The sudden jolt that sent his squad and himself reeling inside the Chimera, the immediate gunfire that greeted the first of his men to exit the vehicle, the terrible flashing images of the Ork faces that came with every shot from their stubby pistols, it all took its toll. Only three of his squad and himself had survived the attack, the jolt they had experienced had been the front of the Chimera exploding from a well placed Ork "rokkit" round. They had packed up the entirety of the ration packs from the Chimera and the bodies of the fallen; they had then wandered aimlessly into the wilderness. He had meant to lead them back to New Lettucin, but instead came across Pirpryt. The dark city had loomed ahead of them and they had entered with much caution, inside the city they were soon greeted by a rearguard made up of thirty men and accompanied by two Sentinel walkers. The Officer in charge of the rearguard had sent Quinn and his three men to the city centre to meet with the man in charge of the City's defense, a stout Lord General by the name of Quintos Sharpe. The man had explained that he simply did not have the resources to send Quinn and his men back to New Lettucin, and he could not contact them via vox network. It was apparent to Quinn that he would have to remain in the city and assist them instead of returning to New Lettucin, he had often wondered if he would be missed by his good friend Jonah Phelps or the grim Doc' Frastus who he spoke with so often, they would assume him dead.

Quinn was awoken by a kick against his boot. He looked up and saw the bearded face of Sergeant Hughes smiling back at him. The tent allowed the sun from outside to shine in, casting Hughes' shadow over where he lay.

"Mornin' sunshine" Hughes grinned.

"I was promised a lye in" Quinn joked as he sat up.

"Not today, Quinn" Hughes beckoned someone from outside forward, "Anyway you'll be happy to wake early this day"

A grim looking man walked into the tent, his tired eyes regarding Quinn closely and his short black hair filthy and unkempt, he recognised him immediately.

"Sergeant Vern?" Quinn's face twisted into a smile as he rose. "Fourth squad?"

"The very same, Sergeant Quinn" The two men embraced through a squeeze of the hand. "It would seem you're not quite as dead as the Commissar proclaimed"

Quinn laughed, "I'm afraid not, no"

Vern allowed a sincere smile.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked quickly.

"Could ask you the same thing" Vern retorted, "We came here to link up with the armoured division that had been travelling with our unit to New Lettucin. Instead we find this"

Quinn's face turned to one of regret as the memory came to him.

"I was here fighting alongside our armoured unit" He said sadly, "The Orks in this city, Vern, they're like nothing I've ever encountered. They're well disciplined, well armed. Their leader is not one of only combat prowess he is tactical, intelligent even. It employs the use of forcefields to protect its fire support assets and always seemed to be a step ahead of us and its array of vehicles and walkers is astounding"

"Hughes has informed me of the Ork Mek" Vern said, "You and I both fought on Priscina IV and we saw the likes of this beast there, what makes this one so different?"

Quinn shook his head. "You have to see it to understand"

"I imagine I will see it if we stick around here long enough" Vern grimaced, "We mean to return to New Lettucin, we had originally hoped to return with a host of tanks but it appears that will be less than likely"

Hughes shook his head.

"We need every tank we have here to hold this line"

"This line will fall tanks or not if this Mek has the force and the mind for tactics that you spoke of" Vern snorted, "It is better you all abandon this post and head back to New Lettucin with us, your tanks would be put to better use"

"Abandon our post!?" Hughes roared back at him, "We will not relent this city to the Orks after so many of our's have fallen here!"

"What good is adding another forty names to the fallen?" Vern said as respectfully as he could, "And I misspoke when I said your tanks, they are part of our armoured division"

"You mean to take them without our permission?" Hughes laughed in Vern's face; "The men out there would gut you in a second when they see you mean to take their armour"

"Then your men are treasonous bastards" Vern gritted his teeth, Herax and Urta behind him held their rifles tighter.

"Watch yourself sir" Hughes' face was right in Vern's now, his nostrils were flared in anger, "Those men have fought long and hard, they have bled for this city, and I'm not about to let some jumped up Sergeant take my tanks"

"Oh I'm the jumped up Sergeant? Coming from you that is rich"

"We had to make do with our situation!"

"And what a job you've made of it"

"Why you little bastard" Hughes looked for a moment as if he was to hit Vern.

Vern regarded Hughes with a cool glare and Quinn quickly stepped between them and sighed.

"Arguing like this will not solve anything my friends" Just as he was about to continue talking, one of his remaining squad members shoved through Herax and Urta.

"Sergeant Quinn!"

"Yes, Harold?" Quinn replied, he noticed the worried look on the Guardsman's face.

"The scouts, sir, they've reported a large Ork force making its way down here"

"How big?"

"Big" Harold said with a gulp.

Quinn looked at Hughes.

"Shit" Hughes said through gritted teeth, "Time to find out if we'll even have any tanks for you to steal by day's end" he gave Vern a look of contempt as he spoke and pushed past them both. "Quinn, get your men ready and be up at the sandbags in five minutes"

"Aye" Quinn said as he retrieved his stub pistol from next to where he had slept. The solid projectile weapon made him feel more comfortable already. "Vern, will your men help us?"

Vern thought for a moment. He was the head of fourth squad back at New Lettucin, if he stayed here and died as they all surely would against a force as large as Quinn had told of then they would be left without a leader and New Lettucin would be down another Chimera. Alternatively if he left now he would be without the tanks he had set out for and further still if they did manage to stave off this Ork wave then he might even be able to bring them all back with him.

"Vern?" Quinn repeated as he began to fasten his padding.

"Of course we will" Vern nodded. "Got our investments to protect haven't we?"

Quinn laughed at the joke and slapped Vern on the shoulder. "Better hop to then me boy, Hughes will be waiting.

"_Not doing this for that would be leader Hughes"_ Vern thought as he left the tent, Herax and Urta hot on his heels.

Outside the men who had been crowding around were now fully mobilised. Many of them were preparing their gear and checking their weapons before running forward to the line of sandbags in-between the two battle tanks Vern had seen earlier, others were heading inside the ruined buildings and seeking what little cover they offered and setting up firing positions. Vern spotted Mikey, Dab and Lyra stood by their Chimera, they were also accompanied by Flair and Gaius who both sat on top of the vehicle. When he reached them they all looked to him suddenly and expectantly.

"We're to remain here and help fend off the Ork attackers" He announced, saying it out load made it seem all the more foolish. "We will stay by this Chimera and provide fire support to those ahead of us" He beckoned to the gun line that was reinforcing not twenty metres from them.

"I shan't be able to reach them with this, sir" Lyra held up her meltagun, "And besides the shots are wasted on infantry"

"Sergeant Quinn assures me its not all infantry" Vern grimaced; "Nevertheless you may man the heavy stubber on the Chimera" He then looked up at Flair and Gaius. "Gaius, you are to prioritise armoured targets and any Ork larger than a normal footslogger with that Mutli-Laser"

"Aye Sergeant" Gaius nodded.

"You know how to use a rifle boy?" Vern asked Flair.

"I do, sarge" Flair replied in a slightly insulted tone.

"You'll be in charge of the defense of this vehicle, the Orks must not be allowed to disable and/or take it for themselves. If they get past us, you head inside and close the hatch and you get this thing out of here" Vern then handed the young man a grenade, "If they get inside you will use this and destroy the driving area, trust me this will kill you a lot faster and a lot less painfully than the Orks will"

Flair held the grenade and gulped.

"You got all that?"

"Aye, Sarge" Flair said weakly.

The sounds of Orks could be heard echoing through the ravaged streets now, a terrifying symphony of curses and taunts that jutted at every guardsman's courage and honour. Accompanying this sound was the revs of mismatching engines and the heavy stomps of walkers.

Vern unholstered his sidearm and barked an order to his squad, which sent them running to their positions; his stomach full of dread, that is when Co-Rolan came wandering over to him.

"Sergeant Vern of fourth squad" Co-Rolan greeted him.

"Tech-Priest" He replied dryly, "I had half forgotten you were here"

"The machines spirits of these vehicles have been strained near to their limits" Co-Rolan clicked.

"Good for us its nearly and not to then isn't it" Vern said irritated.

"They are in need of the rites of re-armament" If the Tech-Priest had taken offence at his tone it did not show in his voice, yet no emotion ever did, "They are not ready for battle"

"They'll have to be, Tech-Priest and I would get myself to cover if I were you" Vern shuddered as a singular and much louder war cry was heard over the din of the rest, "Because its coming"

* * *

Phelps sat amongst a few members of his squad on the third floor of the building he had been assigned to, the rest of his twenty man strong squad were spread through out the other floors. Some of them were leftovers from fifth squad after their Sergeant did not return from a patrol, some were replacements sent fresh from command and now only Petyr was a veteran from the original squad. _Barak is alive_ he told himself, but it had been several days and he had still not awoken, who knew if he ever would.

Petyr sat upon the windowsill of the room they had taken to. The slender building they were in was made up of six floors and was one of the last tall buildings that remained standing in the entire city.

None of the squad dared go on the top floor, not after what they had seen the Bombers do the night previous.

Dariel was leant against the wall next to Petyr and the two idly chatted here and there. Phelps could not hear what of from where he sat, but he betted Barak had been a topic at one stage. He had half a mind to go down to the company CP building and visit the plasma-gunner, but he stayed. First squad needed him.

He ran his hand through his grey hair and sighed audibly. He was exhausted. He had not slept the entire night and after he heard the reports of what had happened to seventh squad and he doubted he would the coming one. Sergeant Keeli was a kind and hardy woman, she had fought the odds and earned the respect of all those around her. She had proven that it was not only men who could lead in combat situations, he remembered in a past conflict in which an entire hive-city was experiencing an uprising from the lower class populace; she had valiantly commanded her unit as they occupied a district. She had kept the peace with little casualties on either side.

It all seemed so long ago, he remembered all the men who had fallen under his command. Karam had fallen four years earlier when he had first taken the mantle of Sergeant; he was the first who had fallen under his command. An Eldar maiden had taken the young lad's head clean off with a wispy blade that had barely seemed to be real. He had screamed his anger at her and fired off several shots to no avail, the Xenos bitch had cut down another two of his men before she was taken down by the rest of the squad, it was Barak who landed the killing shot with his shotgun he recalled.

"Gunnery Sergeant Phelps?" A voice called from the floor below.

"Here" He called back.

The voice did not sound out again, instead a set of footsteps was heard ascending the stairs and soon enough Barak appeared with a solemn smile on his face, his plasma gun slung over his shoulder and his gear cleaner than before.

Phelps could scarce believe it; he smiled back and walked towards Barak with his hand extended.

"Knew you'd pull out of it" Their hands embraced, Phelps felt the cold steel of the augment and suddenly realised why Barak was more solemn than usual.

"Thank you, Sir" He nodded and recoiled his automated arm, "It will get some taking use to"  
Phelps nodded grimly. "You're lucky that's all you lost, crazy fool" Phelps smiled in an encouraging sort of way.

"Suppose" Barak replied before heading over to the wall and placing his plasma gun against it.

Phelps sat back down on the torn armchair they had found on the top floor of the building and sighed a breath of relief.

"Gunny" Petyr was holding up his vox piece when he spoke.

Phelps got up and jogged over to Petyr. He held the vox piece up to his mouth and spoke;

"Gunnery Sergeant Phelps here"

"Phelps" It was Commissar Yoren's voice that came back. "Report to the company CP double time, it's urgent,"

"Aye, sir" Phelps handed the vox piece back to Petyr. He then turned to Barak and Dariel. "You two, accompany me to the company CP" The two Guardsmen nodded and started picking up their weapons.

The three men made their way through the barren streets and towards the centre of the city. As they turned into the street that lead to the CP building, Phelps spotted Sergeant Nathaniel from third squad walking down the street ahead.

"Nathaniel!" Phelps called out.

The Sergeant turned and gave a curt smile. "Sergeant Phelps"

Phelps reached the younger Sergeant and shook his hand.

"Where you heading?"

"Commissar Yoren called all the Sergeants" Nathaniel explained, "Headed to the CP"

"That can't fare well" Phelps sighed.

The moment the four Guardsmen entered the front door of the slightly more intact CP building; the grim faces of Jonn and Remi greeted them.

"You're late" Remi growled, the plasma gun in his hand glowing ominously.

"It takes some of us longer to get here than others" Phelps retorted, "On account of some actually being out on watch instead of holed up inside with the warmth"

Remi laughed dismissively. "Go upstairs, Gunnery Sergeant, Commissar's waitin"

Phelps turned to Barak and Dariel and ordered them to remain with the two command squad members. After they acknowledged his command he and Nathaniel ascended the oak stairs. Upstairs he looked down the corridor towards where he knew the wounded were kept. He saw Doc' Frastus tending to a prone Guardsman, Cromwell was with him also and was holding the patient down as Frastus carried out his work. Nathaniel knocked sharply on the door ahead of them before opening it. The two entered.

Inside the dank room Phelps saw second squad's sergeant Grenn, Priest Haradal stood in front of the desk that Commissar Yoren was sat behind. Seemingly less than had been present the last time they had met here. Vern was off, Emperor only knew where, Co-Rolan with him, and Debra Keeli was lying with her skin melting down the hall if the tales members of fourth squad had been telling were half true.

"We all here?" The commissar growled the question, grim news in his mind.

"All that can be here I fear, Lord" Priest Haradal mumbled sadly, the old man's robe was dirtied and the book he held tattered.

"Right then, we can begin" Yoren stood up and held out a manuscript to Grenn, Grenn took the paper and began reading as Yoren spoke.

"Today we have received disturbing reports from passing air units that an Ork force matching the description of the one Sergeant Phelps here and his squad described sighting was seen moving this direction" Yoren let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "It seems the Ork bastards are finally making their move on us"

The gathered Sergeants each looked at each other with concerned glances.

"Although it was not all grim news; in the same conversation in which the air units reported this, they also informed me they could spare two specialist weapon teams from their own unit to assist us. This comes as a great relief as that fool Vern still has still not returned and we must assume he failed his mission and is lost to us"

Phelps exhaled awkwardly. He had not known the man well, but with his disappearance they were now down another six Guardsmen plus their tech-priest and more importantly a Chimera transport.

"His absence and the fate that has befallen Sergeant Keeli means we need to have some changes in the order of things" The commissar turned to Nathaniel "Sergeant Nathaniel, you will be taking in the remnants of seventh squad, which in truth is only four able bodies but nonetheless they are under your command now. You will also be moving from your position in the south east part of the city to cover the North now that, Sergeant Vern has left us."

Nathaniel nodded in acknowledgement.

"The remaining members of forth squad will be supporting first squad with you, Gunnery Sergeant Phelps. You will have to spread the men out and cover both your own quadrant and keep forth squad in check in their position, your vox caster and theirs will be notified"

"Aye, Sir" Phelps replied cursing in his head, he had to now look after little under forty men and hold two quadrants by himself.

"Commissar Yoren" Grenn said.

"Yes, Sergeant?" Yoren replied.

"If they are headed our direction, and they were last sighted to our east surely the extra men from forth would be better suited with second squad? We are likely to take the larger part of their force"

Yoren raised one of his grey eyebrows. "You think you are ready to handle that many men, Sergeant?"

"And you dare question the Commissar's orders?" Haradal tried to sound gruff as he scolded Grenn but fell short and sounded as feeble as ever.

"I am questioning no one's orders, least of all the Commissar's" Grenn replied apologetically. "I am merely making a suggestion and I assure you, Lord, I can keep the men in check"

Yoren pondered a moment. On the one hand Gunnery Sergeant Phelps was more experienced and could command the respect of the men easier than this younger man, Grenn, though Grenn's position did make the most sense for the Orks to attack and if it fell it would leave their eastern flank wide open. Then again, the same could be said for Phelps' position in the west of city, the Orks who had infiltrated through half a week prior were living proof that the Orks were beginning to use sneak tactics to un nerve them. Throne of terror what to do?

"You will have your fifteen extra men, Sergeant Grenn" Yoren decided, "Sergeant Phelps you will have one of the specialist teams supporting your position, and I will require you to spread out to the south of your position at the same time.

Phelps nodded again, he was glad to be rid of the burden of another fifteen men to watch over, but at the same time he wondered if they would have done him well. If his position was the target that the Ork vanguard force chose to assault first, he and his squad would be spread out and overwhelmed easily even with the support of the specialist team.

The Commissar dismissed them all and on his way out Phelps looked down the hall again, this time the two men were not blocking his view and he could see the heavily bandaged form of Debra Keeli, her eyes were open and staring back at him. He nodded and gave her a sympathetic smile. She closed her eyes.

* * *

Quinn paced quickly toward the bustling line of Guardsmen that was forming ahead of him. Harold, the last survivor of the men he had brought out with him on that damning patrol walked alongside him and pointed out where his newly formed squad was situated. The eight men of his were situated to the left of the line and were all prepping their weapons, all wielded lasguns except the burly Jeremiah who hefted his melta gun as if it were nothing.

Quinn himself carried a stub pistol in one hand and his chainsword in the other. He vaguely heard Hughes' voice roaring commands over the din that emanated from the rest of the men and he felt the ground tremble beneath his feet as their Hellhound rolled back away from the front line.

He reached his squad and got their attention.

"Alright lads" He spoke loudly, "I'm not gonna lie, but I think this is the Mek's final push"

The men, all-originating from different squads looked back with somber faces.

"But remember, this is the Mek who killed your leaders, your brothers. This is the Mek that forced us back all this way, this is the Mek who slaughtered the civilians in that shrine building without mercy. So I ask you men, will we run in the face of this push? No. No. We will make that Ork bastard bleed for every step he takes down this street!"

His proclamation earned a roar of approval from his men and the squad next to him who were without a sergeant.

"We will not bend for this beast that fancies itself intelligent" another oorah replied as he spoke, "We will force this push back and show this sorry excuse of a leader that we are still a force to be reckoned with!"

Before another cheer could sound, the battle tank next to them opened up with its heavy bolter sponsons. The heavy chunk-chunk-chunks caused the men to flinch and turn to see what it was firing at.

Down the street were the first wave of Orks, a mob of at least thirty Orks carrying an array of pistols and close combat weapons, they roared as they charged forward. Their pistols spat shots that landed not even close to the Guard positions and their axes swung wildly. The heavy bolter rounds tore into the front line of the charging mob sending Ork bodies and limbs flying. A huge mist of blood exploded off of every Ork that was hit and yet still they came.

Quinn grinned as he watched the Orks explode and die nowhere near their targets. The Orks roared in anger as they were denied.

The Guardsmen all along the line cheered.

Then behind the line of Orks who were being rapidly decimated, the first three vehicles were sighted, all were Ork transport vehicles, each unique and clunky in design. They screamed around the corner and began to rapidly zoom forward. The mass of Orks they were carrying could already be seeing frenzying in the back. On the front of each one was a large basic looking turret manned by another Ork, it was already spitting forth a salvo of shots at the Guard line. Two men along the line caught two of the shots and dropped back, nobody was cheering now. Every single one of them dropped into crouching positions and aimed their rifles, ready.

The battle tank to the right of the street fired its main cannon, the shot was deafening and hit the trukk on the left directly on the front causing it to explode, it disappeared into a black puff of smoke. One of the other trukks zoomed on and began to zig and zag through the crowd of dead and dying Orks.

Quinn watched as the smoke cleared and many of the Orks who had been in the back were getting up and preparing to continue charging.

"Ready weapons!" He yelled, "Hold the line!"

The Leman Russ on the right fired its front mounted lascannon, the bright blast hurt anyone's eyes who looked upon it and bore into the middle transport's left side. The bright explosion that followed sent the vehicle skidding and into a barrel roll, it rolled a good ten metres down the street. The Orks inside that had survived got out and were immediately gunned down by gunline, the men cheered and gloated.

The other battle tank fired once again at the remaining transport, his shot missed as the Trukk zagged from its arc of fire and the shot instead hit a building to the side of the first ruined trukk, the explosion struck the Orks who were still reeling from the crash, several died with a pathetic scream.

The remaining transport was almost on the gunline now, both of the battle tanks rotated their main guns towards it, but the vehicle was too fast.

The machine gun on front of the Ork transport fired wildly and inaccurately, yet it still managed to drop several more unfortunate Guardsmen towards the right of the line.

Quinn realised it was going to reach the line now and the deadly cargo it carried would soon be upon them. He remembered a situation much like this several weeks before where the entire line was felled by the arrival of a single Trukk's crash. They had been too busy dealing with the Orks within their own ranks to stop the transports that followed it.

It smashed right into the front of the sandbags, hitting both of the heavy bolter turrets, which killed the men manning them immediately. As for the men who were taking cover next to them, they quickly ran to avoid what followed, but already the Orks were firing their pistols and clambering over the sides of their clunky transport.

"Shit shit shit" Vern said through gritted teeth as he watched them begin firing and hacking into the Guardsmen up ahead. "Gaius! Give them support!"

The Multi-laser on the Chimera opened fire on the Trukk, and Lyra opened up with the heavy stubber.

Quinn fired his pistol into the Orks who were jumping over the sides of their transport, the shots took one of the monsters in the eye and caused it to fall down roaring in pain. The Guardsmen next to where the trukk had smashed its way through fired desperately into the stream of Orks that ran into them to little avail, the burly creatures hacked many of them apart as they still fired. The assaults that were ensuing were bloody and ferocious.

"Sergeant!" Jeremiah yelled, Quinn turned to see the man pointing down the street again. The remaining Orks from the crash were all dead now, but more Trukks were appearing from the corner and three two armed walkers teetered after them, each with an array of weapons.

"Support them!" Quinn pointed at the men currently battling with the Orks in their line, "The Russes will deal with the others"

From the other side of the Trukk he heard a louder roar than the other Orks were putting out. A headless Guardsman's body was flung over the side of the trukk and landed with a wet splat the other side.

Vern saw what had thrown the body. An Ork Nob, the Ork equivalent to Sergeants, they were larger and crueler in kind. The beast that had thrown the headless guardsman was wearing clunky sheets of metal over its skin and carried a large two faced axe, one side had a maw of sharp metallic teeth and the other was a jagged face of rusted steel. Its entire head was covered in a crude metallic helm that only had holes for its angry eyes to look through.

"Lyra!" Vern yelled over the din of fire.

"Sergeant?" She yelled back, half looking at him.

"Focus fire on the larger one!" Vern's voice was urgent as he watched the foul beast cut down another two men.

Lyra concentrated her shots on the larger Ork, her shots caused the beast to shudder and jolt with every hit. This gave the Guardsmen around to it enough time to counter attack.

Several men jabbed their rifles' bayonets at the Ork, aiming for in-between the metal armour pieces. As the bayonets met their mark time and time again, the large Ork fell roaring out in pain.

Quinn put another two shots into the closest Ork to him, the solid projectile rounds caused the Ork to jolt with each hit, its pistol fired as it swayed back and the shot hit one of his squad square in the chest.

Quinn did not look to confirm the man's fate, but rather charged headlong into the swaying Ork.

He swung his active chainblade in a killing arc, only to be blocked. The Ork had doubled back and parried with its crude axe. The teeth of the chainblade bit hungrily at the axe, sending sparks flying over both Quinn and the Ork. The Ork broke the hold and took a swing at Quinn. Quinn stepped back and fired two more shots into its face with his pistol. The Ork's lip exploded into a torrent of blood and Quinn saw the bone underneath rupture from the second shot. The Ork cried out and attempted to fire back, but before it could Quinn swung his chainblade round, catching the Ork in the side of the face. The teeth tore into the tough leathery skin of the creature and began to tear through the bone beneath. The Ork fell with a muted cry and stayed down.

Quinn turned back to his squad and saw the man who had been hit was fine, the flakk vest had taken the brunt of the blow and several of the other men were helping him up. The man grinned up at Quinn. Quinn grinned back. A second later the spot where they had all been stood exploded in a bright flash and a poof of smoke. Quinn was sent flying back and landed against the Trukk.

His senses blurred, but he could make out Harold running towards him yelling.

Harold help Quinn to his feet and he looked over at the battle tank closest to them. The main cannon was firing down the street and another large explosion soon followed, but the heavy bolter sponsons were wrecked, and more missiles were raking the line now. The street had filled with rocket launcher wielding Orks and the walkers were unloading their deadly arsenal as well.

"Fall back" Quinn coughed before yelling; "FALL BACK"

The remaining Guardsmen taking cover at the line did not argue and began to run back from the line.

Vern spotted the retreat and grimaced.

"Here they come lads"

Harold helped Quinn back from the line, Quinn ordered him to bring him to the Chimera where Vern and his men were stood.

"Jeremiah!" Harold yelled, "Cover me and the Sergeant"

"I'm here for ya" Jeremiah ran just behind the two of them.

"Tell the tanks to move back" Quinn said hoarsely into Harold's ear, "And tell the Hellhound to get ready"

The Hellhound he spoke of was sat immobile in the middle of a hollow building on the right side of the street. Its heavy flamer would work wonders when the Ork horde got close enough. The men inside watched as dozens of Guardsmen hobbled and sprinted past their building, they knew that they would be needed soon. Co-Rolan stood behind the vehicle chanting away.

Quinn heaved himself over to Vern who was preparing his sidearm. "Vern!" He coughed.

"Quinn?" Vern turned when he heard his voice, "You all falling back already?"

"Not the time, Vern" Quinn glared and leant against the rear of the Chimera.

Next to him was a thin young boy with scraggly ginger hair shakily holding a lasgun tight.

The boy regarded him for a moment then went back to aiming down the street.

"You need to get this Chimera ready to move, we'll have to rally back to Hughes' position if the Hellhound doesn't stop them" Quinn yelled into Vern's ear.

Vern turned to the younger man.

"Flair, get us ready to move, everyone else get ready to lay on the fire"

Flair nodded gratefully and made haste through the interior of the transport.

Quinn looked back to the line they had held less than two minutes before.

The two Battle tanks were beginning to roll slowly back, their cannons still firing and the front mounted lascannons stinging his eyes every time they fired. Past them the walkers were smoking wrecks lying limp in the street, and the transports that had been coming in were also laid asunder in the road.

The Orks that had been embarked upon them lay dead and bloody in the street.

For a moment Quinn regretted falling back, at this stage it looked him the remaining men he had could have held the line.

Moments later another torrent of shots struck the line. Missiles, energy blasts and solid projectiles tore the sandbags apart in an instant.

Quinn looked past the crashed trucks and saw the source of all the shots. Massive hosts of Orks were charging down the street now, the rocket launcher wielding Orks were accompanying them, firing and laughing wildly all the way. The massive crowd must have been made up of at least a hundred Orks, all running and roaring, and there in the middle of them stood the Mek. The creature's eyes were hidden behind a pair of rusted goggles which had wiring running from them into its back, a huge pylon like device mounted on its back and a mechanized axe in one of its bulging hands, it truly was a massive beast.

It strode through the horde slowly; the Orks around it had heavily customised weaponry and wore metallic armour like the Nob had before.

"Vern!" Quinn yelled. Vern turned back to him, "There! That's their leader!"


	5. Calm before the storm

Jericus smiled as he watched the Valkyrie soar towards their flank.

"See that, Conroy?" He said excitedly, this was the first time in what seemed like forever that he'd seen any form of external support. "That's the Valkyrie bringing the specialists in"

Conroy snorted. "I bet they're ass holes. Bet they come in thinking they're better than all of us, condescending pricks"

"What makes you say that?" Jericus asked, he thought Conroy probably didn't know what he was talking about, but he was happy for the conversation.

"Because they've been given the title _specialists_" Conroy spoke with contempt. "So they get some haughty ideas that they're better than the rest of us, less disposable even" He spat.

"Maybe this lot will be different" Jericus leant on the heavy bolter and watched as it grew closer.

"You really are dim aren't you" It wasn't a question.

Jericus sighed. He really wanted a different friend.

Five minutes passed and the Valkyrie had finally flown over him. He felt the heat from its thrusters from where he sat, and he turned to watch it even after it had passed.

The sides of it were open and there were men manning the heavy bolter turrets that hung there, they did not regard him at all, they were too busy scanning the city ahead.

He watched the aircraft until it disappeared behind a set of buildings in the centre of the city.

"Whoever these ass-holes are, they're here now" Conroy grumbled.

"Cheer up, Conroy" Sergeant Grenn's voice rang out, Conroy and Jericus turned to look at him, the burly Sergeant was stood shirtless behind the trench washing his armpits with a dirty rag. "These guy's might save your life"

* * *

Staff Sergeant Cyrus Stainton looked out the side of his Valkyrie transport and breathed in the air. He wore a flakk vest over the top of his wooly sweater and yet still he shuddered. The wind coming in from the open doors were taking their toll so much so that he had removed his officer cap in a bid to prevent it from flying away.

Below he could see the burnt out buildings and the constant rubble and signs of destruction in the streets.

He could detect a lot of burnt out promethium on the wind and as ever on this planet, the stench of death.

A moment before, they had passed over a trench of Guardsmen who were looking up dumbly at their passing and why shouldn't they? He and his units were probably a great joy to the men that were manning this city.

He had read the reports, this company had sustained heavy losses and had even lost their armoured detachment after lending it to the city of Pirpryt. There was nobody to relieve or support them for miles due to General Blythe's huge push occurring against the Ork Warboss Naz-grub to the east. That's where he should be, not wasting his time here in this no named city.

He turned to his assembled men in the Valkyrie belly with him, two squads of six specialists.

His squad carried two flamers, three hotshot lasguns and a plasma gun, whereas the Squad his equal, Joseph Mc'Larvin led were armed with Mortars.

The Valkyrie began to land slowly in an open part of the city which he could only assume had once been a shrine park. The would-be park had been reduced to a dark barren square with the odd dead tree decorating it. Around the park all the buildings were leveled, the rubble from them spread across the wrecked roads.

The Valkyrie landed and the two men manning the turrets beckoned for them all to exit the vehicle. Cyrus ordered the men up and they all followed him out.

The Commissar greeted Cyrus the moment he had stepped out of the aircraft with a handshake.

"Sergeant Stainton is it?"

"Staff Sergeant, and yes sir" Cyrus retracted his hand and reached into his pocket. He retrieved his papers and documents and handed them over to the Commissar.

"Sergeant Mc'Larvin" Joseph shook the Commissar's hand also before handing him his papers.

"Commissar Yoren" The Commissar took both sets of papers and began to read them.

"If we might Commissar, if it isn't an inconvenience to you, we would like to be deployed ASAP" Cyrus continued.

"Straight to it eh? I like that" Yoren smiled. "We'll set your mortars up in the centre of town next to the CP, and your flamer units would be appreciated over with first squad to the West.

"Let us not delay then" Cyrus nodded curtly and beckoned his team to follow him.

* * *

The line of Orks grew rapidly closer now, the beat of feet and the terrifying shouts were deafening and some of their shots were actually coming into range now.

Co-Rolan heard the green tide coming and cursed. He had not yet finished the rites of armament.

The Hellhound's turret hatch opened and the operator appeared from inside.

"Tech-Priest! We have to move soon!" He yelled urgently.

"Fool" Co-Rolan spat in binary and quickly continued his rites.

"Tech-Priest!" The man yelled again.

When Co-Rolan did not respond, the man disappeared back into his tank and the hatch sealed shut.

The Hellhound jumped into life and began to roll forward. Co-Rolan followed it angrily trying to finish his blessings.

The Ork horde was visible in front of the building that the Hellhound was hidden within and the operators wasted no time. The main gun unloaded its deadly payload, spitting forth a torrent of promethium-fueled flame that incinerated the Orks closest to it in an instant. The rest of the Orks hit were aflame immediately and began to scream and cry out in pain before dying moments later.

Vern grinned like a madman; the sight was a thing to behold.

In the first ten seconds that the Hellhound had spat forth its fiery wrath at least twenty Orks had burned, some that had been carrying rockets on their person exploded like a mortar round, killing even more of their kin around them.

As well as the inferno the Hellhound spat forth it also opened fire with its front mounted Heavy bolter; the Orks caught in its firing arc stood no chance.

The fire rose high into the air, blocking out the view of the main horde but the sounds of Orks roaring in anger from their denial could still be heard.

The firestorm wasn't twenty metres from their position and they could all feel the heat emanating from it.

"I saw it!" Quinn said again, "The Mek is with them!"

"I wish we could see the beast's face right now" Herax laughed as he admired the inferno ahead.

The men around cheered and shouted taunts at the dying Orks. Feral cries and roars were quickly being muted as the beasts fell to the flames.

"They act as if we have won this battle," Harold said disapprovingly. Quinn nodded and grimaced.

"We need to get ready to move" Quinn said to Vern.

"Not yet" Vern replied, "We have a good thing going here"

"It won't last!" Quinn said angrily.

And Quinn was right. Through the flames, the silhouette of a large walker came into view. The walker had four arms with an array of violent looking buzzsaws and klaws at the end of each. It charged through the fire and into the building housing the Hellhound.

The men inside the Hellhound didn't see it coming, but they felt the force of it. The four arms latched onto the front of the hellhound and began forcing it back.

Co-Rolan saw the quickly reversing vehicle and as he hurried out of the way he fell flat on his face, cracking an eyepiece.

The Hellhound continued firing desperately, but the walker's powerful weaponry managed to tear through the front of the hull before it could inflict any major damage to it. A buzzsaw cut its way through the turret's operator completely and severed his legs from his torso, and a klaw managed to cave the driver's head in without any extra effort. The Hellhound fell silent and the walker stepped back.

Co-Rolan could distinctly hear the amplified roaring laughter of the Ork inside; he rolled over and looked at it.

It was painted rust like red and a grinning visage had been crafted onto the front of it. The eyes of the visage were likely the pilot's vision slits and it constantly flashed. Its four piston powered arms were in constant motion as it stood gloating over its kill.

"Abomination" Co-Rolan stated. "An affront to the omnissiah"

The walker turned and stomped out of the building with surprising speed, leaving Co-Rolan with the deformed vehicle. If Co-Rolan had the capacity to feel emotions he might have wept, instead he started checking through the bloody, twisted wreckage at the front for any of the machine spirit to salvage.

The walker came back out onto the street and tilted to look directly at Vern's squad and the Chimera.

Vern's face dropped and his eyes widened as a booming laughter came from the Walker before beginning to run clumsily towards them. Behind it he could see the Ork infantry amassing once again, they were all following it with the same speed, many armed with crude melee weapons and pistols.

"Deff-Dread!" Mikey screamed.

"Move! Now!" Quinn ordered.

Vern began firing his pistol at the incoming Orks and ordered them all inside. The multi-laser was firing at the walker now to no avail and Lyra was firing the heavy stubber wildly.

"Lyra, in!" Vern roared. His pistol struck a charging Ork in the face causing it to fall backwards.

Mikey and Dab ran inside first and started manning the hull mounted guns.

"Herax, Urta you too" Vern ordered.

"Aye Sergeant" They said before heading inside.

Quinn, Jeremiah and Harold were still firing into the incoming Orks, their shots dropping a couple here and there along with Lyra's fire.

"Let's go!" Quinn yelled as he ran inside. Harold followed him but as Jeremiah ran to enter a shot caught him in the jaw.

The lower portion of the poor man's face exploded in a torrent of blood and he spun before falling flat to the ground.

"Shit" Quinn muttered. He looked up at Vern who was still outside. "VERN!"

Vern finally turned to get inside with the Deff-dread less than ten metres away. He didn't remember falling but next thing he knew; Quinn was dragging him into the Chimera.

He looked down and saw where he had been hit, a stain on his stomach that oozed blood and another that had torn his knee apart. He shuddered.

"Get us out of here, Flair!" Herax screamed.

The ramp at the back of the Chimera rose ever so torturously slow and the Chimera began to reverse away. Just before the ramp closed Quinn spotted the angry faces of several Orks, moments later he heard the clangs of the ramp being hit over and over.

"Ly-Lyra" Vern coughed out blood over the floor. He could faintly hear the heavy stubber's harsh rattling above him.

Quinn looked down at him and shook his head.

"Quinn" Vern croaked.

"Yeah buddy?" Quinn gave him a nervous smile.

"If you get out of this, go back to New Lettucin. They need help" Vern finished his sentence with another goblet of blood falling from his mouth.

"Shit man" Quinn looked up at the ceiling and grimaced.

The Chimera suddenly rocked and everyone inside jolted over. The side of the transport had been ruptured, and through the gap Quinn could clearly see the forms of Looted Leman Russ tanks, their Leman Russ tanks. Back to haunt them like ghosts of old.

But in front of them and a lot closer were the Orks and their Deff-Dread; the Orks were already sprinting towards the breach and the Deff-Dread was prying it open further like a can of rations, the pilot's laughter audible even over the din.

Quinn stood up, leaving Vern on the ground; he drew his pistol and fired three shots into the first Ork to stick its ugly head into the vehicle, it dropped with a whimper but was replaced by two more.

"Flair! Lower the ramp!" Quinn yelled urgently as he continued firing his pistol. "Open it!"

Harold ran forward and stabbed an Ork in the gut with his bayonet. The Ork roared and swung his axe down.

"Harold!" Quinn cried. Harold's head exploded from the impact sending bits of brain and skull splattering all over the rest of him and the floor around. His body spasmed a moment before falling limp to the ground. The rifle was still jammed in the Ork's belly but still it moved forward.

Quinn cried out in a wordless yell of grief and unloaded the last of his pistol's magazine into the Ork. It jolted and yelped before slamming against the wall, dead.

The ramp began to lower to Quinn's left and he reloaded his pistol.

"Everyone out!" He ordered. But by this point the Orks outside were swarming into the breach, some actually fought each other to get in first.

The man Vern had referred to as Mikey took several shots to the chest before having his face bludgeoned by an Ork wielding an iron pole. He fell without making a sound and the Orks began to beat his prone body.

Herax turned and fired his lasgun wildly into the nearest Ork; the Ork returned his gunfire with a swing of its axe. The blow struck his weapon and sent the lasgun flying from his hands with such force it almost broke his wrist.

Quinn dragged Vern's limp body to the back of the Chimera and unloaded another couple of shots into the back of an Ork who was bearing down on Dab. The Ork's head ruptured and collapsed in front of Dab who was already jamming his bayonet into the face of another Ork.

"We've got to move!" Quinn yelled urgently. Looking down at Vern he realised the man was dead. He had no time to grieve. The Orks in the Chimera were already laying into the remaining Guardsmen who were doing their best to fight back.

An explosion from behind made Quinn flinch. He turned and saw a misplaced shot from one of the looted leman Russ tanks had left a large crater in the street.

When he turned back to the assault inside the Chimera, he saw Dab moving towards him and Herax too.

"Urta come on!" Herax yelled back, but his friend already had an Ork chain-blade eating its way through his stomach. "Urta!"

Urta dropped to his knees vomiting blood, and the Ork that was gutting him fired a shot from its pistol into his temple. The spray of blood and brains splattered against the wall of the Chimera and Urta fell to the ground.

"You fucking monsters!" Herax screeched.

Quinn dragged the grieving man out of the Chimera and whisked him around to the right side, which gave them cover from the incoming Orks.

There they found Dab, who was crouched over Lyra's blood soaked body.

"She musta fallen off when the Chimera got hit" Dab speculated, the girl was unconscious.

"Get her up, and lets move" Quinn ordered.

But before he could say another thing he heard a blood-curdling scream from within the Chimera. Flair.

The boy's screams were heard for another four seconds before they were suddenly silenced. The Chimera's turret hatch swung open and the muscled form of Gaius appeared, he swung his legs over and slid off of the Chimera. He landed next to them with a groan.

"Flair's gone" He grunted before pulling out his laspistol.

"We'll be gone if we don't-" Quinn was interrupted again as a sudden explosion from inside the Chimera rang out, a dozen Ork screams followed.

Gaius pushed past them and began to run back towards the secondary line.

Quinn turned and saw their two battle tanks lying in wait accompanied by another Chimera and two-dozen men. The men were waving their arms, beckoning them to fall back.

Dab and Herax lifted Lyra between them and began to run back, Quinn ran backwards with them aiming his pistol towards the Chimera.

The four-limbed Deff-Dread appeared over the Chimera, its arms revving and reaching out towards them.

It spotted the retreating Guardsmen and began lifting itself over the Chimera. As soon as it stood upon the hull of the wrecked Chimera, a loud BOOM was heard from behind them. The Deff-Dread exploded in a bright flash of fire and fell back out of sight.

Quinn assumed the battle tanks were firing again, so he turned to the others and ran normally.

"Stick to the left!" He ordered and they obeyed.

Their Leman Russ tanks continued firing down the street, killing scores of Infantry whose only cover was the ruined Chimera and their fallen walker.

For a moment Quinn thought that the tide of the battle was turning, but alas his hope died when the battle tank on the other side of the street to them exploded. The entire front was reduced to a twisted piece of metal and the turret spun out and fell off.

Quinn grimaced and continued running. He allowed himself a look back and he could see the Mek growing closer, now the monster was surrounded by a retinue of Orks carrying large shoulder mounted weapons that looked too slender and well designed underneath the modifications to be their own craft.

"Lootaz" He muttered.

When the five of them reached the Guardsmen who had beckoned them forth, they were met with pats on the back and cheers.

"Sergeant, should we pull back?" One of them asked hopefully.

Quinn didn't need a moment to think about it.

"Yes, fall back to Sergeant Hughes' position, don't stop until you get there"

The man nodded before yelling; "You heard him! Fall back! Double time! Run run run!"

The men mobilised and began falling back up the street that grooved into a hill halfway along and ended on a sudden corner.

Quinn ordered Dab and Herax to put Lyra's unconscious body on the back of the remaining battle tank. They did as they were bid and heaved her onto the tank hull before jumping up on it themselves.

Quinn banged on the turret with his pistol and the Tank began to roll backwards, its guns firing all the while. He peered around the side of the turret and saw the Mek was taking no damage; the shots were being soaked up by a damned force field.

"Cocky bastard" Quinn cursed.

The Ork Lootaz were preparing their weapons to fire now, Quinn could see the looks of glee on their faces as they aimed.

"Faster!" He yelled as loudly as he could.

But before a single shot was fired form the shoulder mounted weaponry, the Mek barked an order and pointed toward the sky. The Ork horde looked up, as did Quinn.

A single Valkyrie zipped overhead; its heavy bolter turrets fired several bursts into the streets. The fire could be described as inaccurate at best, yet it caused the Orks in the horde to stop and attempt to shield themselves from the fire.

Quinn grinned in triumph the distraction had been enough. The tank was half way up the hill by the time the horde turned their attention back towards them.

The Orks began to fire once again. The lootaz heavy weapons stuttered and spat their long-range shots ahead of the others, but the tank turned the corner before any could do any real damage.

Quinn sighed a breath of relief and looked behind the Leman Russ.

The street the corner had turned into was narrow and barely wide enough for the tank to maneuver through with a constant line of hab-units lining the sides. The hab-units were ugly buildings without the battle damage, but now infested by craters and collapses they looked absolutely terrible. The men who had run on foot were still jogging down the street with their weapons raised high. At the end of the street on the corner was a taller three building with sandbags stacked along all of the windowsills. Behind the sandbags on each floor was a different form of mounted turret, on the bottom was a heavy bolter, the next floor up an autocannon, above that a missile launcher and on the top floor a lascannon.

The tank stopped at the corner where the rest of the retreating men had fallen back to and Quinn jumped down.

"Hughes!" He called.

"Quinn" Hughes walked through the crowd of Guardsmen, flanked by a plasma-gun wielding man and their last medic.

"The Mek, the Mek is with them," Quinn said with graveness in his voice. "He'll be throwing everything he's got at us, we've got to leave"

"Leave?" Hughes spat. "You've been spending too much time with that Vern bastard"

"He's dead, Hughes" Quinn said spitefully. "He begged me as he bled out in my arms to head to New Lettucin and help them there"

"You think they need more help than us?" Hughes face was bright red and he yelled for all the men present to hear.

"No, but we at least stand a chance with them" Quinn replied, "Hughes its over, the Ork aircraft will be coming in soon enough then what?"

"Then we go down in a blaze of glory" Hughes tried to sound inspirational when he said it.

"Who will be left to tell of our glory? We will die for nothing if we stay here. This city is lost"

The lascannon on the top floor opened fire suddenly. The bright lance zipped down the street and struck the two-limbed walker that had stomped around the corner, it exploded in a bright fireball. All of the men present flinched and aimed their rifles down the street.

"Make the call, Hughes" Quinn grabbed his friend by the shoulder. "Stay here and die for a lost cause, or head out to assist our brothers in the city over"

Hughes pondered a moment; he then turned back to Quinn.

"I've made my decision," He said with a growl.

Co-Rolan stood with his arm elbow deep in twisted steel and decimated flesh. He silently gave a prayer to the omnissiah for the wrecked vehicle, but nothing for the two men who had died within it.

"They should not have ridden into battle without the rites," Co-Rolan repeated to himself.

The horde outside had passed him five minutes previous hungry for the prey they had sought already, leaving Co-Rolan alone in the skeletal body of the ruined building with the corpse of the Hellhound. It truly had been a wonderful vehicle, he must find the machine spirit within.

He spotted a light source inside the gorey mess and reached in for it. As he did, the rest of the driver's head's flesh fell away and landed on the floor with a wet splat.

He had found one of the consoles that were used to interact with the machine spirit and to his pleasure was still intact. It was attached to a part of the Hellhound by a thick wire, which allowed Co-Rolan to take several steps back and operate it.

The console lit up and Co-Rolan began to punch in the required strings of code to interact with the machine spirit on a baseline level. The spirit was unharmed and responded accordingly.

Co-Rolan had been preparing to move it when he heard the squeal from behind him.

He turned and had to look down to see the source of the noise.

The short form of a Grot stared back at him, its beady eyes squinting and its large nose sniffing the air.

Before he could say or do anything, the grot turned on its heel and sprinted out of the building screaming all the while.

"Damn." Co-Rolan cursed in his monotone voice. He quickly began to make preparations to store the machine spirit.

He was interrupted once again by a lower grunt, he turned and saw a large Ork carrying a two handed chain-axe, its face was half hidden by a brightly coloured bandanna of red and its eyes hidden behind half a welding mask.

It growled at the tech-priest and began to walk forward. The Grot he had seen before walked carefully behind the beast's legs.

Co-Rolan turned back to the console and keyed in a command as quickly as he could. The Ork Nob was running at him now, the chain-axe screamed hungrily and the beast laughed.

Suddenly the building exploded with sound, the Hellhound's main vox casters sent out an intense high pitch whine that caused the floor to vibrate. Co-Rolan's ears were adjustable in the way of volume they chose to take in, but the Ork present's was not.

The beast dropped its chain-axe and held its hands over its ears. It roared out in pain.

The Grot next to it died of shock, its lifeless body falling to the floor with blood seeping from its ears.

Co-Rolan quickly resumed moving the machine spirit, ignoring the writhing Ork behind him.

Suddenly the console gave an alert, the last of the power cells in the hellhound were dying out. The console began to flicker. If he kept the audio assault going then he would lose all power and the chance of salvaging the machine spirit with it.

The Tech-priest made his choice immediately. The vox casters stopped emitting the whine and powered down. He then quickly began to type in the last string of code he would need and began to chant rites to appease the spirit.

Co-Rolan felt a sudden force from behind that caused him to jolt forward and splutter a mixture of fluids from his metallic mouth. Looking down he could see and hear the chain-axe that had impaled him spring into motion.

The chains of sharp teeth began to blur with movement and he shuddered with each lap they made. The Ork behind him yanked the hefty weapon upwards toward his shoulder and tore the blade clean through.

The Tech-Priest fell sideways to the ground with a thump. His ruined body sparked and bled alike as he lay motionless. If not for the heavy augmentations his body had undergone he would have likely died already from shock but instead he lay helpless slowly dying.

The Ork laughed and kicked his body. He rolled onto his front with no resistance and more fluids leaked from his agape mouth.

Co-Rolan struggled to move his head but he managed to look upon the console that was now lying on the floor. A large green hand picked the device up and to Co-Rolan's horror threw it against the twisted wreck that was the Hellhound. The console sparked out and shattered as it hit the ground.

The Ork laughed cruelly before stepping on Co-Rolan's back. It stomped away, leaving him lying face down on the floor to bleed.

* * *

Yoren gazed from the window of his office down onto the street below. Sergeant Mc'Larvin's unit was setting up their three mortars in a triangular sort of formation. The mortars looked clean as if never used and the men wore near pristine uniforms, the dirt and mud that caked their boots had been gathered while they were here.

"Soon" Remi said. The man was leaning against the wall near to the door; his plasma gun leant next to him. "Orks will be here soon"

"An excellent observation, Gunnery Sergeant" Yoren said with heavy sarcasm. "Tell me, will the sun set in a few hours too?"

Remi glared to the Commissar's back and continued; "Phelps' position will fall and the Orks will come straight to us"

"He has the specialist flamer team supporting him" Yoren turned to the sullen Sergeant. "Along with twenty men"

"He is too spread out" Remi insisted. "He is having to cover the street which Keeli had been holding. If both positions are assaulted simultaneously-"

"-Then there would be little they could do if both Sergeants were present" Yoren interrupted. "It's a shit situation I am aware, but we knew we were going to be dealing with a large force from the start."

"Yet you still let Vern take one of our last transports and leave" Remi retorted. Jonn stifled an audible gasp. "You should have given him the remains of fourth squad instead of that fool Vern"

"You would question my orders?" Yoren stepped towards the man, his hand resting on the hilt of his Bolt pistol.

"I would" Remi glared.

"You're lucky I need every man for this coming battle" Yoren chuckled. "I'll see you court marshaled if we survive this. Get out of my sight, man the front door and see that I hear no more impudence from you or I will see that you regret it."

Remi saluted, picked up his plasma gun and sulkily walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

Yoren looked over at Jonn and Cromwell who stood at the back of the room.

"It's getting to him, sir" Jonn admitted. "Even with these two specialist teams, I fear-"

"-Fear is infectious, Jonn" Yoren growled. "We cannot have a breakdown in morale. I will not stand for it."

"Apologies, sir" Jonn said embarrassedly. "I only meant-"

"-No matter" Yoren interrupted once again. "Whatever will be, will be"

Sergeant Mc'Larvin looked up at the lit window of the CP building and snorted. He then turned back to his own men who were busy setting up their mortar stations.

"Sergeant" One of said as they turned back to him.

"What is it, Willems?" Mc'Larvin replied curtly.

"Is it true General Blythe is making a move on the Eastern canyons?"

"I heard as much" Mc'Larvin sniffed. "I reckon they'll be in the thick of it by now"

"Why aren't we there with the rest of our company?" Willems asked.

"The Orks aren't like us as you may have gathered" Mc'Larvin allowed a smile. "They often do not strive for the same goals, the Ork forces harassing these cities back behind our lines are likely doing it to disrupt the order of things. For example, the city of Pirpryt had a lot of manufacturing plants. They were the only reason our forces wanted to hold the city. The Orks attacking the city have now seized these plants; our latest reports say there are little to no Guard forces remaining there now. With these plants they can now begin manufacturing a whole other armoured force which left unchecked will easily lay waste to our supply lines and eventually assault our main forces from the rear."

Willems blinked.

"So why aren't we over at Pirpryt?"

"We have to support this city first. After that we can start assaulting Pirpryt as a larger force."

"What's of import in this city?" Willems pressed.

"Absolutely nothing" Mc'Larvin laughed. "But we don't want the Orks to have it now do we?"

* * *

Harlem wiped the sweat from his brow and exited the Chimera. He had just finished the final repairs on the hull-mounted guns along the sides and fixed the piston that operated the rear ramp. He was exhausted. He heaved himself onto the top of the Chimera where he found his flask of whisky.

After unscrewing the cap, he took a generous swig of the now warm liquid and coughed.

He remembered a simpler time before they had deployed to this planet for this engagement. Going out of the base on the weekends, drinking better liquor than this in several bars a night accompanied by men like Vern, Harold and Arashi. Better times.

Not a day had passed since his friend Vern had set out that he didn't wonder what had happened to him. Same as when Sergeant Quinn of fifth squad had been ordered out on patrol. Harlem was the last person both of those men had spoken to before leaving and he felt terrible for it. Sure he had given them both kind words on their passing, but it made him feel awful all the same.

Not as awful as the moment he had told his son that duty called. He recalled leaving them all over again. He had left their hab-unit clad in his gear, both his son and wife watching. The look they had both given him would haunt him to his last day.

A sudden noise snapped him out of his memories and brought him back to the earth shattering reality. He shifted nervously on top of the transport and looked over to the rear of the vehicle.

He saw nothing, but another noise sounded from inside the Chimera.

"Hello?" He said shakily.

"Harlem?" a familiar face appeared from behind the Chimera.

"Ravio" Harlem breathed out in relief. "Scared me half to death, man. Whaddya need?"

"Sergeant Nathaniel has sent me down to ask if you've got any lubricant that could be used for a flamer mount"

"Third squad asking for lubricant" Harlem slid down the side of the Chimera and Ravio walked around to him. "Why isn't that a surprise?"

"Funny guy" Ravio rolled his eyes. "You got the lube or not?"

Harlem chuckled and turned away from the private. "Got it right over here come on"

He took two steps before hearing the muted cry from Ravio. Harlem turned and saw an Ork towering over Ravio from behind. The Ork was clad in camouflage and wore a leather balaclava over its face, only its eyes were visible.

A large violent looking blade was protruding from Ravio's throat and the young Guardsman was trying desperately to walk forward, but instead frothing blood with the occasional leg spasm.

Harlem opened his mouth to cry out, when he heard movement behind him. He rolled to the left and used the Chimera to pull himself up. Looking behind him he saw another masked Ork with its axe held mid-swing, it followed him with its eyes and lunged forward with a grunt.

Harlem opened to side access point of the Chimera and leapt inside, the axe missing his back by inches it rather clanged off the hull instead.

Harlem raced to the front of the Chimera but realised he had left his radio on the roof. He cursed himself and instead picked up the wrench he had left in there earlier.

Harlem turned and saw the Ork inside the Chimera now, its axe raised once more.

"Come on then, you bastard" Harlem held his wrench up defensively.

The Ork lunged forth and swung the axe down in a killing arc. Harlem attempted to block the strike but was instead hit in the left arm by the axe. He cried out in pain as the axe sliced through his flesh and splintered the bone below.

He swung his wrench with a cry of fury striking the Ork in the side of the head. The beast lurched to the right from and an audible CLANG rang out. The Ork fell to the floor and stifled a roar.

Harlem went to strike the prone Ork again, when suddenly a second camouflage clad Ork entered the vehicle. This one wore a gasmask and carried two elongated daggers both twisty and rusted alike.

Harlem realised he wasn't getting out of this with just his wrench. He muttered a prayer to the Emperor asking him to bless his family and swung the wrench down hard.

The strike ruptured the top of the prone Ork's head and he swung again, and again, and again. He yelled at the top of his voice in the vain hope that anyone from third squad might hear. The dual wielding Ork stepped forward calmly and jammed the two blades into Harlem's chest.

The pain was excruciating yet he did not cry out; no one was coming and he wouldn't give the Ork the satisfaction. He spat in the Ork's face the saliva splattering over the gasmask's lenses.

The Ork drew him forward using the blades as prongs and twisted.

Harlem dropped boneless to the floor once he had slid from the blades' embrace and lay still.

The Ork who had slain the engineer retrieved a makeshift radio from its leather bag.

"Boss, we'ze in. We'z 'eaded to the middle of da town" It drawled.

"Har Har Har, the oomies won't know wut hit e'm" The deep voice of the Warboss replied.


	6. Edge of the fall

_**WRITER'S NOTE: These next few chapters are made up of different points of view, some of which happen at the same time, I've left some marking points to help better comprehend the timeline. - Yed**_

Nathaniel was sat next to Arashi when the report came in.

It was Grenn's voice and he sounded more panicked than his usual self.

"ORK FORCES SIGHTED EAST QUADRANT, TWO TRANSPORTS WITH TWENTY PLUS INFANTRY EMBARKED, ANOTHER TWENTY ON FOOT"

Erratic gunfire was heard in the background as the Sergeant gave his report.

Arashi gripped his flamer tighter and looked to Nathaniel.

"Ramsay" He said to his squad's vox bearer.

The young lad turned and jogged over the dugout to his Sergeant. He held the vox device out to Nathaniel. Nathaniel took the device and held it to his mouth.

"Third squad awaiting orders. All clear here"

Arashi and Ramsay looked around to confirm Nathaniel's statement.

"First squad standing by. No activity here" Gunnery Sergeant Phelps' voice followed.

"All teams defend your sectors, report any change in situation and have your men stand ready." The Commissar's harsh voice ordered through the vox. "This is already more than first squad reported seeing so we have reason to suspect they have reinforcements with them"

"Any sign of the Warboss amongst them?"

"NEGATIVE" Grenn's voice was once again accompanied by the sound of a heavy bolter firing. The same sound could be heard echoing over the town.

"Where is Ravio?" Nathaniel hissed to Arashi.

"He hasn't come back from the Chimera bay" Arashi replied. "But I hear Eli and Trevor were getting out today"

Nathaniel took some console with that. He would need every able body available to him.

"Alright, stay ready." Nathaniel said as he drew his laspistol.

Ramsay joined the other men pointing their rifles over the top of their dugout. Apart from their hastily dug trench there was little to no cover. The street they had been assigned to had been near leveled before their unit had arrived and lay desolate with the odd pile of bricks and random other clutter.

This would be good if they were assaulted, as the Orks would have no cover to use but at the same time would prove fatal if the Orks came in on transports.

"Really wish we had some tank traps" Arashi remarked.

"You and me both" Ramsay shakily agreed.

The sounds of shots were echoing from behind them now. Many of the squad turned to look down the streets as if they would see the conflict that Second squad would be partaking in.

"Watch over Grenn" Nathaniel prayed silently. "Watch over Grenn and all of us."

* * *

Jericus dared not take his finger off the trigger. The Heavy bolter turret shook violently in his clenched hands with a considerable force yet still he held on.

Conroy was screaming something in his ear as he fed the ammunition into the mighty gun but his words were drowned out by the intense sound that emanated from the turret.

The enemy transports were weaving in and out of each other's paths as they zoomed towards their position. Their crude mounted machine guns chattered shots inaccurately towards their position sending yellow streaks zipping around the dugout.

Jericus was aiming for the transport that stayed predominantly to the left but failed to meet his mark for the most part. The odd lucky shot struck the vehicle and sent a spray of sparks flying over the driver but it did little to slow them.

The Orks embarked on the transports had their axes and pistols raised high, all roared their fury into the sky as they were jostled from left to right by the sudden turns the vehicles performed.

"Ork vehicle sighted my position," A voice cried out through the radio. It was Gunny Phelps' voice, Jericus decided.

Sergeant Grenn was roaring his own orders into the vox, he read out co-ordinates and numbers so fast that Jericus could have sworn the Sergeant was speaking in binary. The only reason he could hear his voice at all was for their squad's radioman, Jayce, had the volume on his pack increased to a level audible over the gunfire.

"RELOADING" Conroy announced, the heavy bolter trigger clicked empty and Jericus let go. His hands were numb from the constant vibrations. He looked over as Conroy quickly began to open a new box magazine for the turret.

"Conroy my shots aren't doing anything" He yelled.

"Shut up you idiot!" Conroy spat as he linked the ammunition feed with the turret. "Clear!"

Jericus began to fire again, the tracer rounds streaked across the incoming vehicles. The turret landed a lucky hit and killed the gunner on the nearest vehicle. The unfortunate Ork's head exploded splattering gore over the driver and the embarked Orks nearest to the front. But the Trukk did not slow and to Jericus' surprise the Orks were actually laughing at the Ork who had died.

"They're coming right for us!" Jericus heard O'Donnel cry out nearby.

A smoke filled explosion tore open the side of the nearest transport suddenly causing an Ork to fall and roll in the dirt. Jericus turned and saw Sergeant Grenn reloading his grenade launcher and grinning.

Jericus focused his turret's fire on the fallen Ork and smiled as the fallen xenos' limbs tore violently from its body.

"Emperor protect us," Jericus droned as he continued to fire. The infantry that had been following the transports on foot were getting hammered by mortar fire and were almost completely decimated, but the vehicles were almost upon them.

"They're officially in the city limits!" Another man cried out.

"Prepare for assault!" Grenn roared over the noise. "Over-watch now!"

The nearest transport skidded and bumped over the rubble in the street but still sped on. The embarked Orks had begun firing shots from their pistols now, adding to the noise.

Jericus shuddered as the Orks let out a mighty roar of: Waaagh!

The two transports halted five metres from the dugout and the remaining gunner began to fire without mercy.

The shots at this range were considerably more accurate and several men went down screaming. One of the shots pinged off of the shield guard from Jericus' turret causing him to duck down.

The Orks began to disembark from their vehicles. As they all leapt off the vehicle rose in height as the suspension's strain was relieved.

"OVERWATCH" Grenn repeated. "Send these bastards back! Fire, Fire, Fire!"

On cue, the fifteen men from fourth squad sprang forth from the buildings behind the dugout and took up their firing positions. All thirty-six men present sprayed the Orks with fire from their lasguns. The Orks shielded themselves and a few dropped with the weight of fire. Most of the Orks had taken cover behind their transports, the drivers and the gunner of which perished almost immediately.

Jericus' morale lifted and he yelled in triumph as his heavy bolter turret caused on the vehicle's engines to explode in a shower of sparks.

Grenn fired his grenade launcher again and sent an Ork flying back. The men were jeering and crying out in triumph.

Suddenly from behind the nearest trukk something was thrown over into the dugout. Whatever had been thrown landed a way behind Jericus; he turned to see what it was.

The object in question had landed in between Darniel and a man he did not know, it was a stick like device with a cylinder at the top of it.

"Stick-bomb!" Grenn yelled. "Darniel get ou-"

The grenade exploded. The two men next to it were sent flying away from it and the grenade tore up the dirt around them.

Jericus could barely hear. Everything was ringing and a small cloud of smoke descended over the dugout.

He turned and saw a stream of flame soar through the smoke and toward the Ork positions.

"Burn you alien bastards!" O'Donnel yelled as his flamer spat forth the promethium fueled fire. Several Orks were engulfed by the flames, they cried out in pain yet still managed to press on for another few steps before dropping.

Grenn threw down his empty grenade launcher and drew his Laspistol and his combat blade.

"Assault!" He cried out. "Hold the line!"

The fifteen men from fourth squad could not see what was going on in front of the dugout due to the smoke, but still blindly fired in.

Jericus looked to Conroy for an order, but the sullen man had already picked up his shotgun and started to fire the clunky sounding weapon. Jericus himself had a lasgun that lay next to his heavy bolter turret.

Just as he went to pick it up another cry of: "Grenade!" rang out. He grabbed the rifle just as the explosion went off in front of his turret. The blast sent the turret tumbling back; it landed on Jericus and caused him to sprawl over to his side.

"Agh!" Jericus cried out. He looked back at Conroy and saw an Ork towering above the man. Another blast from his shotgun sent the beast stumbling back. Before Conroy could cock the shotgun again, another Ork ran forward and shot Conroy in the chest that this time sent the Guardsman falling back.

"_Got to help Conroy_" Jericus said to himself as he heaved himself up. He aimed his lasgun. He felt a sudden burning sensation and a jolt in his back. He fell forward and landed on one knee.

He turned and saw a torrent of las-fire coming from behind the dugout, the inaccurate shots were tearing the ground up in the trench and some hitting the men manning it.

Jericus forced himself up into a crouch and turned back to Conroy. The Ork stepped on Conroy's prone body and charged into the trench its gun barking off shots and its axe raised.

Jericus fired his lasgun on full auto into the Ork's stomach where Conroy's shotgun had struck. The Ork screamed in pain and fell on its front. Jericus wasted no time and leapt forward. He buried his bayonet in the beast's skull and twisted it before pulling it out again.

Before Jericus could revel in his kill however, another three Orks entered the trench.

He saw one of them swing its cutlass like sword into O'Donnel's arm. The arm came clean off and O'Donnel cried out and involuntarily dropped in flamer. Without the stream of fire suppressing them, another dozen Orks charged over the top of the dugout and fired into O'Donnel.

_Fuel canister._ Jericus' eyes widened. The Ork gunfire caused the canister on O'Donnel's back to explode. The unleashed promethium set all the Orks and Guardsmen nearby alight.

Ablaze Guardsmen and Orks alike screamed and ran aimlessly before falling silently to the ground.

Another three bangs sounded out as more grenades went off around the dugout, men were dying all around him and Orks were replacing them. A man bayoneted an Ork in the throat before being cut down by another two of its kin.

Jericus saw Sergeant Grenn through the crowd battling with a larger Ork, the beast swung its mighty two handed axe down but the Sergeant double back and unloaded two shots into the beast's face.

"We're being overwh-" Jayce's voice died with him as an Ork slammed an axe into the back of his head. The man fell face first and a spray of gore and skull fragments followed him. Several more axe blows from the Ork destroyed the radio.

Jericus forced himself to stand and mustered all his courage.

"_You are an Imperial Guardsman of Cadia_." He told himself. "_You die in service of the Emperor_"

He spotted a nearby Ork holding a man by the throat and repeatedly chopping at his stomach with an axe. The Ork was unaware of Jericus advancing on him.

He hoped the bayonet was sharp enough.

Jericus ran at the unassuming Ork with his rifle poised. He cried out and stabbed the bayonet into the beast's throat. The thing's skin was tough and leathery but to Jericus' relief the bayonet went through all the same.

The Ork roared out and turned to face Jericus. He quickly twisted the bayonet with an effort and pulled it back out.

"You git!" The Ork yelled with one hand over its wound. "C'mere!" It lurched forward and swung its axe. Jericus tripped backwards over a Guardsman's body and fell on his back. The Ork pursued and growled at its denial.

The Ork swung its axe down once again and met its mark. Jericus yelped in pain as the axe embedded itself in his chest. His vest had taken the brunt of the hit but his ribs were in agony.

A clunky shot rang out behind them and the Ork jolted to the side taking its axe with it. Jericus looked over and saw Conroy lying with his shotgun smoking.

"Run, Jericus!" Conroy croaked.

Jericus rolled over and began to crawl over to Conroy, but two Orks had grabbed the shotgun-wielding Guardsman and had started hacking into him.

Jericus winced and forced himself not to cry. He crawled towards the back of the dugout where the remnants of fourth squad would be found. Bodies were strewn everywhere, bloody and disfigured. The stench was unbearable. He crawled over both Ork bodies and Guardsmen's alike.

Once he reached the lip of the dugout he hauled himself out and began to weakly crawl. He looked up and to his horror saw the men of fourth squad were in a bloody brawl of their own. Several Ork foot soldiers and a larger Ork were tearing into the men laughing all the while.

_No._ Jericus shuddered and turned back to where he had seen Sergeant Grenn.

The Sergeant was bleeding from a dozen wounds and looked worn out, he was now only holding his combat blade that was now bloodied and snapped at the point.

The larger Ork had its own set of wounds, the blood staining its green flesh and blending in with the red on its leather uniform. The two faced chain-axe was clogged with gore from previous fights and was hung by the beast's side.

Several Orks stood around and watched their leader duel with Grenn. They hooted and roared insults at the Sergeant.

Jericus' head was suddenly wrenched away from the scene and turned back to fourth squad. He was held by his helmet and he was forced to face the holder. An Ork leered back, its breath made Jericus' eyes water and its eyes were filled with hate.

The Ork forced him to his feet and held him up.

Jericus could scare believe it but his life flashed before his eyes. Maybe this was his body's way of disconnecting himself from the harsh reality.

_First day of work within the manufacturing plant in the hive-city at the age of seven. His alcoholic father killing himself after he was told he couldn't get an augment for the leg he had lost while working out in the wastes. His doting mother crying when he told her he had signed up for the Guard. The friends he made in basic training. _

The past wasn't much more comforting than his current situation. He closed his eyes as the Ork swung its axe at head level.

The blow cut across his face and the Ork let him go. Blood splattered across his eyelids and he felt himself fall back into the dugout. The darkness settled in the moment he landed.

* * *

"We're being overwhe-" The message cut out suddenly and was replaced by the brief sound of a scream. The part of the message that hadn't been interrupted was plagued by the sounds of cries and gunfire and the sound of Ork laughter.

Ramsay grimaced and looked over at his Sergeant.

Nathaniel kept his face composed. "_Have they killed Grenn?"_ He wondered.

"Ramsay" He finally spoke.

"Yes Sergeant?" Ramsay replied.

"Vox" He held out his hand expectantly. Ramsay quickly handed him the device. "Commissar Yoren, this is third squad, Sergeant Nathaniel speaking, come in"

"Receiving you, Sergeant" The commissar's voice replied with the sound of mortar fire in the background. "Proceed"

"Sir, requesting permission to go and support second squad in the East of the city. We just received a message-"

"-I heard the message also and that is a no, Sergeant" The Commissar interrupted. "We can't have your position unmanned."

"We have no activity up here, sir" Nathaniel pressed. "Their full force has been reported in the other sectors."

"Stand down, Sergeant, that is an order, Yoren out." The vox clicked and left Nathaniel fuming with rage.

"Sergeant?" Arashi said. Nathaniel stayed silent.

Explosions could be heard echoing across the city and a more constant stream of gunfire being exchanged accompanied that sound. Towards Second squad's position there was a large abundance of; snaps as the Ork weaponry went off and toward First squad's there was a lot more smaller explosions heard, though whose explosives were going off he could not say.

"I'm going." Nathaniel stood up and fastened his gear. "I will not wait here fighting no enemy while our brothers perish. Who is coming with me?"

"But the Commissar-" Ramsay said.

Nathaniel regarded the men huddled around him. "If we survive this battle I will be executed for disobeying orders. That is why I am not ordering any of you to come, I am asking"

The Guardsmen present looked to each other awkwardly. Some muttered amongst themselves and others remained silent.

Arashi was the first to step forward, hefting his flamer.

"I'm with you Sergeant."

"Aye and me" Another arose. "Let no man say Hemm of seventh squad would sit back and listen to others die while those of third squad laid down their lives"

Nathaniel smiled back at him.

"I'll come too" A man who had been sat next to Hemm stood up. "And for the same reason" He elbowed Hemm and grinned.

All four from seventh squad had stood now and several more from third squad arose. Ramsay stood and gave a nervous smile.

From the twenty-two-men present, thirteen had stood up. Those remaining were thought no less of by those who stood.

"Let's move then" Nathaniel turned on his heel to make off but stopped. He spotted two men jogging toward their position in clean gear.

"Eli?" Arashi said. "Trevor?"

"We're here, we're here" Trevor panted.

Nathaniel briefed them on the situation and offered them the same choice.

The two men looked at each other and Nathaniel watched their faces as they battled with the options.

"Will all due respect, Sergeant" Eli forced himself to look Nathaniel in the eyes when he spoke. "I've only just gotten out of the Doc's room, don't wanna get shot by the Commissar the moment I get out"

"Understood" Nathaniel nodded. "And you Trevor?"

"Same here, Sarge, sorry"

"Nothing to apologise for" Nathaniel assured them. "Rest of you, come on"

Nathaniel led the thirteen others away and left the remaining men sitting in the dugout.

They crossed the patch of dead earth that had once been the city's park and headed down one of the back roads to avoid the company CP building. Arashi hazarded a look down the road and saw the mortar teams loosing rounds into the air.

Nathaniel was at the front of the team and paced quickly to the point that the others were jogging to keep up._"He's not dead_." He kept telling himself.

Grenn had saved his life a few days previous and now Nathaniel would return the favour.

They finally reached the street that led to Second squad's designated street and Nathaniel ordered them into a run.

The men sprinted down the street, their footsteps usually would have echoed through the desolate street but today were drowned out under the constant noise of gunfire.

The sounds had gotten louder and equally as disturbing the closer they had gotten yet Nathaniel didn't slow. As he reached the corner that would turn onto the street Second squad held he drew his las-pistol and his chain-sword. He revved it in anticipation and turned the corner.

The sight that greeted him was horrifying.

Orks were laying into the men mercilessly in the dugout. Barely any standing Guardsmen could be seen inside and those who did were, were quickly being cut down by Ork blades.

Behind that, the remains of fourth squad were fighting for their lives against another dozen Orks. The men scrabbled and fought valiantly against the alien beasts that towered above them. Bayonets swiped. Axes fell. Blood splattered.

Nathaniel spotted an Ork raise a young Guardsman from the dugout by his helmet just to strike the poor lad in the face with its axe.

And there beyond all this, his friend stood bloodied in the face of a larger than average Ork.

The Ork was holding its two handed weapon by its side and speaking with Grenn. The words weren't audible from this distance but they were followed by a rolling laughter from the other Orks who had gathered to watch the fight.

Nathaniel could see the blood and sweat rolling down Grenn's tired features and sprung into action.

"Hemm! Take six of the men round the right and assist fourth squad, the rest of you with me. Arashi while we assist Sergeant Grenn I want you to purge that dugout"

"Aye Sergeant" Arashi grinned.

"Move!" Nathaniel barked before sprinting towards Grenn.

The four men from seventh squad accompanied by two others from third sprinted headlong towards the assault ahead of them.

Arashi kept up with Nathaniel despite the flamer and Ramsay ran the other side of him.

Nathaniel began to fire his pistol into the back of the Orks who watched the combat causing one of them to drop. The Orks roused and turned.

The guardsmen behind Nathaniel opened fire dropping several more. A roar of anger followed and the Orks charged.

The larger Ork growled at the incoming Guardsmen and picked up its weapon with both hands. Nathaniel saw Grenn beckon at the beast and the two locked blades again.

The first of the turned Orks was coming into striking distance now; Nathaniel fired his pistol into its face and skidded onto one knee. The Ork's counter blow went over his head and before it could alter its stance Nathaniel had driven his active chain-sword into the alien's groin.

The teeth of the sword ripped down through the Ork's groin and out the bottom causing the Ork to fall in on itself. It cried out in agony and Nathaniel finished it with a flick of his motorised sword across its throat. Arashi's flamer had laid waste to several more of the Orks and Ramsay was mid-way through gutting one with his bayonet. The Guardsman was firing at the same time and the Ork hollered curses and cries as it fell.

Nathaniel grinned and pressed on. The adrenaline had kicked in just as another Ork came at him hollering and cursing. He fired his pistol four times and the Ork shuddered with each shot. But still it pressed on towards him.

He sidestepped the Ork's charge and drove his chain-sword across. Using the Ork's own momentum the sword bit deep and wide across its stomach. The beast roared and turned. It swung down at Nathaniel and it was too late to block it.

The blow hit the Sergeant on the shoulder and sent him slamming down to the ground. Nathaniel cried out in pain and desperately tried to push himself up as the Ork's stomach leaked onto his prone form.

"Arashi!" He yelled out, but Arashi did not answer him.

Instead Ramsay fired his weapon into the injured alien's face sending it falling over backwards with a pained cry.

Ramsay grabbed Nathaniel by the arm and helped him up. He then bent down and retrived the Sergeant's chain-sword and handed it to him.

"You alright Sergeant?"

Nathaniel nodded with a smile in thanks.

Ramsay gave a curt nod and turned back to the fight. The Orks were all but dispatched now; Nathaniel turned and saw Arashi unleashing an inferno from his flamer into the dugout. The Orks within writhed and ran. Arashi's job had been easy as there were no standing Guardsmen to avoid; yet he made every effort not to light ignite the fallen.

Nathaniel pressed on through the combat with Ramsay on his flank. They both put down another Ork with a burst from Ramsay's lasgun and a fatal swipe of his Chain-sword and were at Grenn's position.

Nathaniel's eyes widened as he saw the larger Ork twist on its foot and use the momentum to send a sideways swipe at Grenn. The Sergeant attempted with the last piece of strength he possessed to block it but to no avail.

His blade shattered in two and the hungry teeth of the chain-axe bit deep. The Sergeant cried out and flew a good four feet in the air before landing on his back with a grunt.

"Grenn!" Nathaniel cried out.

The Ork Nob turned to face him and its bloodied face sneered. The beast had sustained a good deal of injury in the fight and Nathaniel planned to make full use of this advantage.

"Kill this beast!" He said to Ramsay before turning and charging toward the Ork.

Ramsay followed and fired a burst at the Ork's chest. The heavy leather that the Ork wore absorbed the shots and it did not slow.

Nathaniel swung his blade at the Ork. The Ork parried and shoved his blade to the side. With the blunt end of its two handed weapon it struck him in the face on the turn which sent him stumbling back.

His head was swimming and his vision blurred. He could make out Ramsay charge ahead of him.

With the Ork's weapon still only just coming back from the wide swipe, Ramsay had a perfect chance and skewered the beast in the chest with his bayonet. The beast roared and kicked the radioman in the leg.

Ramsay fell to one knee with a cry but did not let go of his rifle.

Nathaniel leapt back to his feet and ran to Ramsay's aid, but it was too late.

The Ork's weapon came down and severed Ramsay's arms at the elbows, the radioman fell backwards with a scream and his arms fell from the rifle, boneless.

The Ork held its weapon in one hand and used the other to pull the rifle from its chest and threw it away as if it were a toy.

Nathaniel grimaced but pressed on. The Ork was vulnerable.

His chain-blade met its mark this time when he swung it, striking the Ork in the right shoulder the teeth began to tear the joint apart.

The Ork roared out and attempted to buffet Nathaniel away.

Nathaniel doubled back and as the Ork came forward with its shove he stabbed the blade next to where the bayonet had struck. The teeth once again dug hungrily into the Ork's leathery flesh sending gore and gristle splattering over Nathaniel's face as well as the Ork's.

The Ork brought its other arm around and punched Nathaniel in the side, which knocked the wind from him, but still Nathaniel pushed his blade deeper. The Ork roared and struggled violently as it tried to get away but Nathaniel gave it no ground.

The beast shuddered and cried out as it fell to one knee.

It used the two handed weapon it had used to prop itself up and once again punched Nathaniel.

This time Nathaniel relented and fell back, the chain-sword with him.

Nathaniel landed on his back and looked up at the monster. The Ork was dying and it glared down at him with its teeth bared.

"Sergeant" Arashi's voice came from behind him.

He didn't even have to turn. "Do it, Arashi"

A torrent of flame spat forth from behind him and engulfed the felled Ork. It roared and fell backwards writhing in pain until it finally moving all together.

Nathaniel stood up and looked down at its body with contempt. He then remembered Ramsay and turned back. The radioman lay on his back, pale faced and dead.

Nathaniel cursed and paced quickly towards Grenn's prone body.

He knelt next to the man and lifted his head up.

The man who had been his best friend was already dead. Pale as Ramsay and splattered with blood he lay lifeless in Nathaniel's arms. Looking down he could see the deep wound that the Ork had inflicted on him as well as the dozens of other cuts along his arms and legs.

"Dammit, Grenn" Nathaniel put a hand over his face and forced back the tears. He couldn't grieve openly for his friend in front of his men.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw they had won over the Orks in this sector. The men were checking the bodies of the fallen and killing the odd injured Ork that clung onto life.

Out of the thirteen Nathaniel had led here only seven had survived, eight including himself and four from fourth squad had survived the assault.

Arashi was stood talking to Hemm and Lewis from seventh squad and they gave him a sorrowful look.

"Sergeant" A voice from inside the dugout said suddenly.

"Yes?" Nathaniel's voice almost cracked from the tears he held back.

"We've got a couple injured in here"

"We'll bring them back with us and call the Doc" Nathaniel replied. "We've gotta get back to our street."

"Aye" Arashi agreed.

Nathaniel took one last look at Grenn and whispered. "I'll bury you later my friend. If we survive this farce."

He walked over to the survivors from fourth squad.

"Names?" He said.

"Daniel Matthews, Sergeant." A tall balding man replied.

"Luciano Greks, Sergeant." A handsome tan skinned man with black hair answered.

"Gregor Herub, Sergeant." A shorter bearded man replied.

"Jacob Bryant." The last man replied, he had large lips and matted blonde hair.

"You're all to come with me," Nathaniel ordered. "This position will not hold with just the four of you."

"Aye Sergeant." Luciano nodded. The others agreed and got ready to follow him.

Nathaniel led the men from the street, they carried two injured men with them and Luciano and picked up a shotgun he had found in the dugout.

The sounds of battle still echoed ahead of them.

"This ain't over yet," Arashi muttered ruefully.

* * *

"We're getting overwh-" The radio crackled, but nobody paid it any heed.

Phelps went down the stairs two at a time shortly followed by Barak, Dariel and Petyr.

"Regroup at the building!" He yelled out the window as he ran.

The erratic and clunky sounding gunfire of a "big shoota" rang out down the street below.

The spread out squad had come under attack where the furthest spread out men had been situated. The others were listening intently as the men ahead yelled out for assistance.

He reached the bottom floor and flung the doors open.

Strung along the line of buildings next to his own his squad sat in pairs. All aimed down the street.

The four men under attack had been twenty metres away from the rest of them and had been positioned there as scouts.

"Everyone regroup on me!" Phelps yelled down the street. The gathered men turned and sprinted back towards him.

"We ought go help them, Sergeant." Barak urged.

"I'm not in a hurry to die like our dear Plasma-gunner here, Sarge" Dariel's lofty and sarcastic voice rang out from behind him.

"Not willing more like" Barak retorted.

"Are you?" Dariel said with a laugh.

"I'm willing to lay down my life for a comrade yes," Barak growled back. "I wouldn't expect a high born little shit like yourself to understand."

"Enough" Phelps turned to them. "We will go and assist them yes. Be ready to move" He glared at Dariel when he finished his sentence and drew his laspistol and more importantly his power-sword. He thumbed the rune on the handle and activated the sword; it surged into life and thrummed as it powered up.

"Let's move!" He barked.

"Sergeant" A sly voice spoke up.

He turned and saw it was the specialist team's Sergeant Cyrus.

"Staff Sergeant?" He replied impatiently. The sound of his men's screams had turned into ones of pain now and the gunfire had intensified.

"My team and I will remain here. Hold the fort as it were"

"Very well" Phelps could have spat on the man. He didn't want to risk his specialists for a few regular Guardsmen, that was how he saw it.

Phelps began to run down the street fuming with rage and his men followed closely behind him. He could already see the building where he had posted his scouts and he quickly stacked up against the wall.

Next to the building was an alleyway that led onto another parallel street and that's where they would find the Orks who were attacking his men.

He signaled with his hands for the men to go through the alley and he sprinted into it. The men followed two at a time.

Phelps edged up to the corner of the alleyway and hazarded a look around the corner.

Ahead was an Ork transport sat immobile in the street; the gunner on the front looked frenzied and fired its big shoota turret wildly into his scouts building.

Dotting the street were craters and roadblocks made from brick piles and various other pieces of wreckage that they had formed the week before.

Phelps motioned with his hands again for the squad to move up to the nearest brick pile using the cover provided.

The Sergeant and Barak were the first to leave the alley. The two of them slid into a nearby crater. They then quickly climbed out of it and began their long crawl towards the Ork vehicle.

Dariel and Petyr soon followed and mirrored Phelps and Barak's path and after them the squad.

Phelps and Barak reached the last bit of cover first and they both sat with their backs up against it. Phelps pulled himself to the top of the pile and jutted his head out just enough for him to see. That's when he saw it.

The transport had a very different set of passengers than he had expected.

The enormous Ork within that caught his eye most of all wore huge clunky armour and had a crude looking machine gun and klaw in place of its hands.

Five other large Orks all carrying massive two-handed axes and wearing metallic plate armour flanked the monster in the transport. All of them joined in laughing and egging the gunner on.

"Dakka-Dakka!" The gunner frothed at the mouth.

Phelps ducked back down and looked at Barak with wide eyes.

"The Warboss and its retinue" He gasped.

Barak grimaced and held his plasma gun close to his chest.

The rest of the squad had regrouped on them by this point and sat awaiting orders.

"Petyr" Phelps hissed. He held out his hand.

Petyr edged over and handed the Gunnery Sergeant his vox device.

"Gunnery Sergeant Phelps requesting fire mission from mortar teams" He said in a hushed tone.

"Proceed with co-ordinates." A husky voice returned.

"Shit" Phelps fumbled through his pockets and retrieved a map of the city. He traced along the streets until he recognised their position and held a thumb over where he wanted the mortars placed.

He read out the co-ordinates and was promised a fire mission was imminent.

Soon enough Phelps heard the whistling noise that preluded a mortar shell and seconds later a small explosion struck next to the transport. Phelps heaved himself back up and looked on.

Another two mortars landed and neither met their mark.

The warboss within roared out and disembarked from the vehicle, which surged up as the suspension sprung back. The other Orks inside were jostled but laughed and leapt out as well.

"No" Phelps hissed.

The Orks began to make their way towards the scouts' building ignoring the next three mortar blasts.

"Hit something you fools" Phelps just managed not to yell.

And as if on command, the next mortar strike hit the Trukk directly in the middle. The Trukk skidded and the gunner took a chunk of shrapnel to the back of the head, killing him instantly and stopping the gunfire. The driver of the vehicle looked over and laughed heartily.

The Warboss stopped its clunky walk and turned back. The trukk took another hit, which bounced it up once again, and another blast struck just next to it.

The Warboss laughed and began to turn back to the scouts building but suddenly stopped. It was looking directly at Phelps.

"_Shit!_" Phelps ducked down quickly but he knew he'd been spotted. "It saw me," He announced to the squad.

Barak stood up and armed his plasma-gun.

Dariel stared back with a blank expression.

"OI" The deep voice rang out through the now very quiet street.

Phelps sighed in annoyance. "Grenades"

All of the men present drew an egg shaped grenade from their person and crouched with anticipating fingers over the pins.

"Do it!" Phelps yelled a moment before he leapt back up on top of the brick pile and threw his pin less grenade. He was echoed by another fourteen grunts as another fourteen grenades went sailing through the air.

Many of them landed where they had been willed to and exploded by the feet of the Warboss and his retinue.

To Phelps' horror the Warboss barely moved and only two of the other large Orks dropped to the floor. The cluster of smoke puffs drifted away and the Warboss began to stomp towards them. The other three charged ahead of it with their axes held high and the two on the ground began to attempt getting back up.

"Barak!" Phelps pointed past the Nobz and directly at the Warboss. "Hit him!"

Barak appeared on top of the pile next to him and fired. The bright blue shot zipped past the three axe wielding Orks who ducked at the sight of it and struck the Warboss in the side of its chest. The Plasma melted through the heavy armour it wore and the Ork roared out in anger.

The three other Orks were getting close now and Phelps knew what came next.

"Bayonets!" He barked. "Some of you get back and over-watch!"

Dariel backed through the crowd and joined those who were to over-watch while a large portion of the men fixed bayonets and moved forward.

Phelps and Barak stepped back down the pile and stood ready.

As soon as the first Ork appeared upon the pile they all opened fire. The lasfire ricocheted off of the plates for the most part, but Barak's Plasma-gun sent the beast falling backwards with a blue fire set upon its chest.

The next two did not appear on top of the pile but rather smashed through it. The bricks and slabs of concrete were sent flying and some struck the men nearest the front including Phelps. A brick buffeted the sergeant as it struck him in the stomach but he managed to keep his footing.

Barak fired blind as a whoosh of grit struck him in the face; the blue miniature star missed and struck a building out of sight.

The two large Orks charged headlong into the squad. The first one cleaved through two men and shoulder barged another. The second went straight for Phelps, its double-headed axe had no teeth but Phelps could see his face in the freshly sharpened steel all the same.

He dropped his pistol and held his power sword in two hands. He parried the blow at the middle of its handle. The heated blade cut straight through it and he scored a wound on the wielder's face.

The Ork cried out and dropped the blunt end of the severed axe, holding the other piece like a hammer.

Phelps went to strike the beast again but his swing was parried and pushed back.

He heard cries of pain from behind him as the other Ork ran amuck but there was nothing he could do for them at this point. He vaguely heard Petyr's vox pack crackle the words; "Orks our position" but he couldn't be sure.

Coming back for another try, the shattered axe swung towards Phelps in a downward arc and once more Phelps parried with a strenuous effort. He noticed a flash of joy in the Ork's eyes and before he could stop it the axe came up from the parry and caught him in the jaw.

His mouth felt aflame and he tasted an abundance of blood. He couldn't see the wound but he assumed that the strike had split both of his lips in two. That would make for an ugly scar.

He spat a goblet of blood at the Ork and glared up at it.

A sneer was returned and the Ork went in for another swing.

Phelps dodged under it and with two hands went to behead it. The blow landed in its throat and it cried out.

Phelps dug a bit deeper and pulled the blade free of the Ork's throat in a downward arc. He had not taken its head off but he had severed several veins and the creature was bleeding to death. Blood hissed and spat off the heated blade and he grimaced as the Ork's throat sprayed blood over him.

"Bigger they are" He muttered as the Ork finally fell down, dead. The blood pooled around its lifeless body.

Before Phelps could turn to help the rest of his squad, a shadow descended over him and his kill. He looked up and saw the Warboss stood with an ugly grin on its face.

"Neva liked 'im anyways," It laughed. The klaw on its arm began to open and close menacingly. "Let's see wut you's can do against me, oomie"

Phelps grimaced and stepped into a defensive stance.


	7. Tipping point

Mc'Larvin's team had been loosing shells for a good three minutes now and had received no further reports from second squad. The last thing they'd received over the vox network had been Sergeant Grenn roaring a string of co-ordinates for a fire mission.

"Next round is fire mission complete." Mc'Larvin said.

The men each let off another round and their street went quiet again. They turned and in unison and looked at him expectantly.

"We're being overwhe-" The radio message cut out quickly.

"Wow." Willems snorted. "Not ten minutes into this battle and already they're being overwhelmed. I'm so glad we were sent here to die with these incompetent fools."

Mc'Larvin couldn't argue. They had originally been told they would be helping with the push in the East and instead had been lent to this skeleton crew of a company that held this useless city. Even after his lecture to them the other day about stopping the Orks from building up forces to their rear he still resented the fact that he had to be one of the ones that were left behind to clean up their flank.

Five minutes of nothing passed, the streets echoed and cracked with the sounds of battle and they waited.

The city truly was a barren mess. Mc'larvin hadn't been here long yet he saw much of the same. Skeletal buildings with rubble and wireframe infesting the innards and constant signs of decay everywhere. One street he had come upon on a toilet venture was stained black and charred.

"Gunnery Sergeant Phelps requesting fire mission from mortar teams" The voice over the radio broke the silence. All the men looked up at Mc'Larvin. He sat back down and picked up the vox piece.

"Proceed with co-ordinates" He replied.

The voice answered again a moment later with a string of co-ordinates and the men were already setting the mortars to mark.

"Loose rounds, one set" Mc'Larvin barked.

The mortars each loosed off a single shell, each one sending off a small puff of smoke from the barrels.

"Loose another"

Once again they all fired and sent the rounds screaming away.

"Fin-" Mc'Larvin began as a sudden gunshot rang out.

The shot hit the ground just next to him and sent a spark dashing away from the impact mark.

Mc'Larvin turned and to his horror saw seven burly Orks in masks and camouflage advancing on them with pistols and blades drawn.

"Orks!" He yelled, as if he had to.

All of the advancing Orks fired as they walked. The barks of their pistols illuminated their masked faces and sent chilling snap like echoes around the street.

Willems took a round to the face and fell backwards with a muted cry. The rest of the team scrabbled for their rifles. More shots pinged all around them and Mc'Larvin grabbed up the vox piece again.

"Orks our posit-" He was once again interrupted as a round struck him in the side. He groaned and coughed before falling over to his side.

He held a hand over his wound and winced in pain. The bullet had entered his body but never left.

"F-fuck" He spluttered and closed his eyes.

The gunfire continued causing him to open his eyes suddenly. Two of the Orks had run over to the CP building and stood either side of the door with their blades drawn. The rest were engaging his team. One of the Orks he noticed had fallen under his squad's fire and lay face down ahead.

A foot suddenly stamped on him and he rolled onto his back with a gasp of pain.

His squad was fighting the masked Orks with the bayonets on their rifles to little avail.

He spotted one of his youngest members, a lad named Rory, catch an axe in his throat, which damn near beheaded him. The lad fell to the floor spluttering up blood and crying.

The rest of the Guardsmen fared little better. Two of them had managed to take down one of the Orks; their bayonets still were twisting in the beast as it fell.

But alas the two were gunned down by another Ork from behind and fell all the same.

Mc'Larvin's vision was beginning to fade now; he rolled back over and lay in the fetal position.

His gaze fell to the Orks that stood either side of the CP door and he watched them through bleary eyes.

The door opened and a Guardsman who he could not make out came out with his pistol raised. The moment he took a step from the door he was viciously stabbed from both sides. His body was thrown forward into the street and landed with a thump. The man was alive but judging by the pained look on his face, he didn't wish to be.

The two Orks then forced their way through the door and disappeared inside.

Mc'larvin tried to get up but found his legs unresponsive. He coughed again and immediately regretted it.

Something buried itself in his back and burnt tremendously. His eyes widened and a moment later began to force themselves closed. His head dropped and he saw the twisted blade protruding from his chest. A cruel chuckle came from behind him.

His eyes finally closed and the life fled from him.

* * *

"Commissar!" Remi's voice rang out from down the stairs.

Yoren leapt to his feet and ran down the flight of stairs outside his office with his bolt pistol drawn.

He looked down and saw Remi firing his plasma-gun into the belly of an Ork. The beast fell to its knees and yelped as the plasma ate through it.

Another Ork was following in its steps but reached Remi in time.

It swung its heavy blade down at Remi and struck the Plasma-gun from the Guardsman's hands.

Remi stepped back and reached for his sidearm.

Yoren fired his pistol down at the Ork twice. The heavy rounds penetrated the Ork's flesh and detonated within, sending gore and its arm flying.

Remi drew his sidearm and finished the masked beast off with two shots to the head. He turned back and looked up at Yoren.

"Orks. Here"

"Aye I can see that, Sergeant." Yoren growled back. "Where's Jonn?"

"They killed him 'moment he opened the door, sir." Remi said with regret. He picked up his plasma-gun and inspected it. "Thing's busted, sir."

"We need to put a word out. Cromwell!"

Cromwell appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Sir?"

Before the Commissar could speak Cromwell cried out and un-slung his lasgun from his shoulder and hastily aimed it down the stairs.

Yoren turned and saw another two Orks same as the others clad in camouflage and wearing masks charging towards Remi.

"Sergeant get out!" Yoren ordered but it was too late.

Remi managed to get off two shots at the first charging Ork, only one met its mark and the Ork did not slow.

Remi was sent sprawling back as the Ork shoulder barged him. His laspistol was sent sliding away and he cried out.

Cromwell opened fire from above and hit the Ork several times in the chest. The creature swung its axe down at Remi and struck him in the chest as it took the hits. It fell back tipsily and Yoren fired another shot from his bolt pistol. The round detonated within the Ork's stomach and sent a spray of intestines and gore splattering over Remi's prone body.

By now the Other Ork was a right behind its fallen comrade, it fired three shots from its pistol up at the Commissar.

Yoren winced and fell over on the stairway as he took a hit to the stomach.

"No" He growled. Not here. Not like this.

"Commissar Yoren!" Cromwell cried out as he ran down to assist him.

"Kill the Ork you idiot!" Yoren yelled but it was too late.

The Ork had reached the stairway and fired another four shots up at the two Guardsmen. Two met their mark on Cromwell and caused the man to fall over Yoren and down towards the Ork with a cry while the other two ricocheted off the wall behind him.

Yoren picked up his bolt pistol and aimed it at the incoming Ork. The damned beast was fast, by the time he was ready to fire the Ork had already buried its axe in Cromwell's face.

Yoren fired and struck the Ork directly in the face. Its head exploded in a shower of gore, some of which splattered over Yoren.

Yoren leant back and winced. His body armour had absorbed the brunt of the shot but it had still gotten through to an extent, the blood confirmed that.

"Frastus!" Yoren croaked. "Doc!"

A set of hurried footsteps rang out from above and a moment later Frastus appeared at the top of the stairway.

"Commissar" He said gravely as he descended the stairway.

"Get me up." Yoren ordered. "Get me up"

Frastus heaved the Commissar to his feet and helped him up the stairway. Yoren's legs felt numb and he could barely move them by himself.

"Haradal!" Frastus yelled. "Preacher I need a hand here!"

The frail form of Haradal appeared from within Yoren's office. The old man looked down and began to mutter a prayer.

"I'm not dead yet, old man" Yoren growled. "Help Frastus get me in the infirmary."

"I will do all I can, Commissar. Though I fear I may not be much help" Haradal moved over and took up one of the commissar's arms over his shoulder.

Frastus and Haradal successfully carried the injured Commissar to the infirmary. The room was brightly lit and the stench of blood and sweat hung in the air. There were five wireframe beds with stained mattresses upon them. The walls were cracked and in several places you could see the brickwork where the wall plastering had gone. Sandbags and wooden planks blocked all but a few slivers of light from coming in through the windows.

Riddling the beds were the forms of the unit's wounded.

Lying in the bed closest to the door was Debra Keeli. Bandages covered her face apart from her closed eyes and also her arms. The bed along from her held another burn victim from seventh squad. This man had lost both of his legs below the knee and bandages covered a large percentage of his body.

The bed next to him was vacant and Commissar Yoren was quickly placed there. Haradal stepped back and wheezed and stretched his arms out as the strain was lifted.

Frastus immediately began unclipping the Commissar's coat and rooting around for the wound. Yoren winced as the Doc' found it. He began to cut away the last of the fabric that barred him from seeing the wound clearly and grimaced.

"It's nicked your liver it looks like."

"I can bloody well feel that." Yoren said through gritted teeth. Frastus had put pressure on the wound and it was excruciating.

"Commissar Yoren" Haradal warbled.

"Yes, Preacher." Yoren replied with great strain in his voice.

"Might I be permitted to go and read the young men downstairs a blessing for their passing?"

"Gah" Yoren yelped as Frastus injected him with a numbing sedative. "Of course, Haradal, but be sure to be back for my own."

"You carry out the work of the Emperor and therefore have his blessing. You will surpass this," Haradal spoke with a smile. He then gave a curt nod and exited the room.

"Doesn't feel like it." Yoren muttered. Frastus set to work with his scalpel.

"Are we sure there aren't anymore of the beasts out there?" Frastus said as he worked.

"Between us we killed four of them. Surely the specialists outside dispatched a few of their own."

"Depends on how many of them there were." Frastus' face was balled up with concentration.

"Aye a good point." Yoren nodded. "Call Haradal back, we'll call over third squad to defend this point."

* * *

Phelps stood waiting. His sword raised and his eyes locked with the lumbering monster ahead of him.

"Gah!" A familiar voice rang out behind him.

The Warboss nodded at something behind Phelps.

With no other choice Phelps turned. He saw the majority of his men lying injured and dying. Petyr lay closest with his stomach leaking out onto the street, his handsome face pale and bloodied and his eyes heavy. Behind him Barak had lost his plasma-gun and was holding the Ork's swing back with his augmented arm and with the other he was ramming a knife into the beast's left forearm. The two of them were locked in a hold that neither seemed to be winning. The man who had cried out had been Dariel; the highborn lad was lying on the ground with a bloody cut across his forehead and had a gory gash upon his chest. Behind the engagement five men stood aiming their lasguns, too afraid to fire in case they hit the men fighting hand to hand.

The Ork was not without injury though, its heavy armour was dented and singed as well as its flesh bloodied and punctured from several stabs from bayonets.

"Assist him!" Phelps ordered he then quickly turned back and raised his sword higher preemptively, but the towering Ork before him had not moved. It chuckled cruelly and watched the fight going on behind them. Phelps once again turned to watch.

Barak was starting to be pushed back.

The Ork's two-handed push was ultimately overpowering him and Phelps swore he could see the augment bending.

"Cyrus!" Phelps roared. _Where are those specialists?_

The plasma-gunner broke the hold and twisted his knife as he retracted it from the Ork's flesh. The Ork's mighty weapon came down revving as it tried to catch him but he quickly dodged back.

He held his knife up and balled his augmented hand into a fist.

"You'z a dead man, oomie." The Ork laughed as it raised its axe for another swing.

Barak didn't step down. Phelps grimaced as the Ork raised its blade and leapt into the air. The axehead came at a sickening speed as the Ork's momentum plunged it down.

In a final act of defiance Barak raised his augment's middle finger at the Ork and stabbed forward with his bloody combat knife. The knife bent on the rusted steel armour and the axe buried itself into Barak's skull.

Blood and viscera exploded from where Barak's head had previously been. The Axe had gone straight through and had finally stopped halfway through Barak's chest.

Ruined nervous systems caused his body to twitch and spasm for a few moments more before falling limp and sliding off of the Ork's blade to the ground.

Blood trickled off of the axe-head and the Ork sneered at Phelps.

Phelps turned back to the sneering Warboss and cried out in rage. He charged forth with his sword in two hands.

"E're we go." The Warboss said with glee. It raised its power klaw up to meet him. It crackled with power as it opened and closed.

Phelps swung high aiming for the Orks large head. The Warboss jutted its jaw up and the sword instead struck the jagged jaw piece that hung just under its head.

Using the momentum from the first strike, Phelps sliced downwards and aimed for the Ork's left arm joint. The heated sword struck true and sent a spray of sparks off the arm joint. The Ork grunted out and went to shoulder barge him.

Phelps stepped back and held his sword up to defend from what came next.

The Warboss swung the powerklaw round with all its might, the three pronged device open and ready. His sword caught the klaw and for a moment he thought he might be able to hold it.  
A moment later he was corrected. The power klaw tensed and snapped his sword in two as if it were just a toy. The Ork went into a barge and sent Phelps sprawling back.

Phelps landed on his back and discarded his broken sword handle. He pushed himself backwards and reached around for another weapon, the Warboss advancing all the while.

"Stand up an' fight ya git!" The Warboss ordered. "Stand up and die by the klaw of Hug-Rab git-stomp"

Phelps had no wish to die at the hand of this Ork today. He turned onto his front and looked around.

Dariel laid just ahead of him limp and moaning softly. In his hand was his lasgun and in the other a bandage that the lad had gotten out and given up with.

"Get 'op!" Hug-Rab yelled angrily. "Get 'op and die!"

"You would kill me while I am unarmed?" Phelps looked over his shoulder at the Ork with a glare.

"Unarmed, armed, oomies squish all the same" The Warboss sneered and reached down towards him. The klaw caught him around the waist and he was hoisted up.

Hag-Rub didn't kill him however. Instead it had just helped him to his feet.

"Now den. Where were we?"

Phelps turned back and smiled as he saw the other Ork fall down crying out. The five men who had been over watching had killed it under weight of their bayonets.

The aged Gunnery Sergeant turned back to the warboss and smiled.

From his jacket he drew a combat knife and held it up. "_Barak met his end like this, why not me_?" He thought. Death was close.

"HAR HAR" The warboss laughed heartily. "Dat's da spirit der, oomie"

Phelps charged once again with his knife held tight. "_If I can get a strike in the bastard's eye…_"

He raised his knife and leapt up at the lumbering giant. The warboss swiveled on the spot and attempted to dodge but it was too late.

Phelps landed on the warboss and grabbed onto the jagged jawpiece with his left hand. The juts dug deep into his hand and he winced.

But with the other hand he drove his knife down towards Hag-Rub's face.

The warboss jolted to the side again and caused his strike to instead dig into the side of the monster's jaw.  
It let out a mighty roar and Phelps could see he had pierced its gumline. It wasn't enough. He quickly retracted his knife and went in for another strike but he had missed his window.

He was suddenly grabbed from the side and yanked violently off of the Warboss. The klaw that held him tensed and shoved him back and let him go.

Before he could react, the klaw flew towards him.

Two of the prongs cut two deep grooves horizontally across his face, one of which sliced into his eye.

It felt as though his face was aflame. He cried out in agony and fell boneless to the floor.

Before Hag-Rub could finish the job, five yells of denial rang out. It looked up and saw the five Guardsmen who had taken down one of its retinue aiming their rifles.

They all fired a controlled burst off from their rifles. The las rounds pinged and richocheted off of its mega armour and Hag-Rub laughed.

It lowered its built in twin-linked shoota and fired at them. From this range the shots were mostly accurate and the men cried out as the solid projectiles tore their armour and flesh asunder.

Hag-Rub looked down at the disfigured Sergeant. His face seeped blood and one of his legs twitched every now and again.

"Leave you fer the buzza'ds" Hag-Rub chuckled. "And if not dem then me when 'I get back."

Hag-Rub stomped back towards his transport and left Phelps bleeding out.

Only one of his eyes would open and even that one was getting covered in blood. His world spun and blood leaked all down his front.

"Ba-Pet-someone" His voice was a whisper and he coughed out a splutter of blood.

The Ork transport sped past him a moment later and headed down the street with haste, the Warboss' laughter audible all the way. Sounds started to blur and distort like akin to his vision. He heard the radio crackle the words; "Third squad come in" but the rest hazed.

"Damn you, Cyrus." He spluttered with the last of his strength.

* * *

Nathaniel and his rag tag squad made up of members of his own third squad, second squad and seventh made their way down the backstreets parallel to the company CP. His head throbbed from the injuries he'd sustained and every now and again he would bother at the purple bruise forming on his forehead.

"Third squad come in, this is Commissar Yoren." Nathaniel turned and saw that Ramsay's radio pack was now on the back of Gregor. Gregor turned and grabbed for the piece on the wrong side. He changed sides and finally handed the piece to Nathaniel.

"Sergeant Nathaniel, awaiting direction." Nathaniel did not stop and walked alongside Gregor as he spoke.

"Company CP has been attacked, mortar team have been eliminated and three members of my command squad along with them. We need third squad to come and hold the CP, abandon your position and get here ASAP"

"At once, sir. Third out." Nathaniel replied. He handed the piece back to Gregor. "Luciano."

Luciano jogged through the other men and arrived alongside Nathaniel.

"Sergeant?"

"You know where third squad is posted?"

"I think so, when I get to the Chimera holding area I go right and follow the road along-"

"-To the park and head through there. Yes. Go there and rally the men we left behind and tell them what the Commissar has ordered. After that lead them to the CP and we'll see you there."

"Aye Sergeant." Luciano nodded and sprinted ahead of them.

The street they were currently in had alleyways leading through to the street opposite and soon one of them would be aligned with the CP building.

Heading through the dingy alleyway Nathaniel tensed up. He drew his chainsword and flicked the safety off of his laspistol. He cautiously edged around the corner and looked left and right.

Guardsman and Ork bodies were littered around the deployed mortars. Blood splattered the concrete and the stench of death hung heavy in the air.

"Move up, secure the CP" Nathaniel hissed back to the man behind him, who then relayed the message along.

Nathaniel jogged out of the alleyway and pressed on towards the bodies.  
When he reached them he grimaced.

Most of the Guardsmen bodies had slit throats or fatal wounds centered in their faces. All of them were specialists and men Nathaniel did not know; yet he still shuddered and was full of remorse.

The Ork bodies were fewer in number and clad in camouflage and masks. Nathaniel remembered his own encounters with the Kommando Orks that had struck earlier in the week and grimaced. He just took solace in the fact that the Guardsmen hadn't been taken unaware and had managed to put up a fight.

"Sergeant!"

Nathaniel turned and saw one of his men knelt by a body that lay just outside the CP building. He ran over quickly and to his surprise the man on the floor was alive.

"Jonn" Nathaniel knelt down and looked the man in the eyes.

"Se-Sergeant" Jonn spluttered blood and saliva as he spoke. Looking down, Nathaniel could see two large bloodstains in his clothes.

"We'll get Frastus" Nathaniel assured him. He turned to the man who had called him over. "Solomon, go inside and get the Doc"

Solomon left them and ran inside. An echoed shout of; "Doc!" Soon following.

"Sergeant" Jonn coughed. "Forget Doc, you've gotta listen to me"

"Go on, Jonn"

"They didn't kill all of them," Jonn said. "One of them went off" He nodded in the direction they'd come from. "That way. It's still out there."

Nathaniel looked around warily but saw nothing.

"Squad, form up!" He bellowed.

The men ran up and around the two of them.

"Be on the look out for any more of these camouflaged Orks, Sergeant here says there is still one around."

Murmurs of "Roger" and "Aye Sergeant" answered and the men began to aim their weapons around.

"Sergea-" The terrified scream cried out from inside the CP.

Nathaniel turned with wide eyes. The cry had come from inside the CP building. "Solomon!"

Nathaniel got up and ordered four of the men to stay with the dying Sergeant. He then turned and ran into the CP building.

Upon entering he saw the dead and bloody bodies of Gunnery Sergeant Remi and Sergeant Cromwell. Remi had bled out from multiple wounds and the most distinguishing injury visible on Cromwell was the oozing crater that had been his face.

"Gah!" Solomon's voice rang out again from upstairs.

"Kill the beast!" Commissar Yoren's voice echoed.

Nathaniel sprinted up the stairs, he faintly heard other Guardsmen entering the CP building but he did not wait for them.

He turned the corner into the infirmary and saw Solomon.

Their missing camouflaged Ork pressed Solomon up against the wall. Its axe was inches away from Solomon's face; the only thing stopping it was Solomon's desperate grip around its wrist, his other hand around its throat.

"Sergeant!" Yoren was sat on a bed a little way into the Infirmary. He had a bandage over his stomach with a bright bloodstain marking it. Frastus lay unconscious on the floor in front of the Commissar's bed, his hands bloody and a gash upon his forehead.

The Ork had turned its head to look at him now, its eyes narrowed with contempt under its gasmask. Nathaniel wasted no time, he charged forward, his chainsword screaming.

As he swung for the Ork's arm, the beast turned and parried the blow with its axe, which let the strain off of Solomon. Solomon went to rugby tackle the Ork but he had not the strength. He shoved the Ork enough for Nathaniel to act though.

His chainsword went in with another swing and with the Ork distracted with Solomon it landed a hit on its forearm.

The Ork roared a muffled cry and out of instinct recoiled his arm away. Nathaniel had him. He stabbed at the Ork's belly with his chainsword and landed another hit. The teeth ground through the camouflaged leather and through its tough green skin.

Blood sprayed from the wound and the Ork reeled over. Nathaniel flipped his blade over and quickly aligned it to the Ork's throat. It fell right onto the revving blade and with an effort Nathaniel kept the blade in place under its weight. The Ork's head spasmed and jerked until finally the teeth of the blade tore through its thick neck and it fell to the ground with a wet thump.

Nathaniel was covered in splattered blood and he sighed out in relief as the Ork's body fell.

Turning back to the Commissar, he now noticed another body beyond Frastus'.

Preist Haradal was lying on the floor wheezing, a dark stain visible down the front of his robe.

"Sergeant" Commissar Yoren said.

"Commissar" Nathaniel strode over to him. "Are you hurt?"

"More than you know" Yoren growled back and winced. "You didn't take very long arriving." He coughed loudly.

"We were closer than we had meant to be, sir" Nathaniel said. "Myself and the men downstairs went to assist Second squad."

Yoren glared.

"You disobeyed a direct command and abandoned your position."

"Yes, sir." Nathaniel admitted.

"You know the punishment for that I trust."

"Yes, sir. But with all due respect I think my execution can wait until after this battle is done."

Yoren smiled softly.

"I believe it can. How many men are with you and how fares second squad?"

"I have seven of the men who came from my squad, four from fourth squad and two wounded from second squad. One of which have gone to get the rest of my squad. Second squad's position fell. Sergeant Grenn and all but the six I mentioned were killed. We cleared the area of all the remaining Orks and were on our way back to our position when we heard your call."

Yoren nodded as he listened and winced as he rolled over to reach for something under the bed. When he rolled back up he had his ornate bolt pistol in his hand. He held it out to Nathaniel.

"Take this." He commanded. "I'm in no shape to fight, I've got shrapnel from one of the Ork's damn bullets tearing its way through my stomach. Take this and defend the CP. If first squad have fallen then the remaining Ork force will be heading for us."

Nathaniel took the bolt pistol from the Commissar. It was heavy as it was beautiful. This was the weapon of Astarte's, they hold these things in one hand with ease and deal with the recoil as if it were a laspistol. Yoren handed him another two bulky magazines for the weapon and leant back.

"Move the wounded into the bu-building across" Yoren ordered between coughs. "Leave myself, Frastus and Haradal."

Nathaniel surveyed the infirmary. He recognised the bandaged form of Debra Keeli but the other four beds held men he did not know.

"Solomon, go grab some of the guys from downstairs to help."

Solomon nodded and hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

Haradal lay wheezing and praying quietly under his breath when Nathaniel walked over to him.

"Preacher Haradal, are you able to move?"

"N-No, lad." The injured preacher replied with effort. "Help me up onto a bed."

Nathaniel lifted the man with relative ease and helped him onto a bed. Haradal groaned and shifted awkwardly to get comfortable. Nathaniel then knelt beside Frastus and shook him.

"Doc?"

Frastus did not stir. After another two shakes Nathaniel heaved Frastus' unconscious body onto another bed. The gash in the medic's head was not deep but already a large purple bruise was forming around the seeping blood.

"Damned Ork came in through the window." Yoren coughed bitterly. "Struck Haradal in the stomach and bulled through Frastus. If it hadn't been for your man Solomon, damn thing woulda killed us all, I'll see that that lad gets a commendation for that, even if he did drop his bloody rifle."

"Guess it was lucky we were nearby, sir." Nathaniel said with a smile that Yoren did not see. Yoren also smiled.

"Got me there, lad."

A moment later the multiple sounds of footsteps started banging up the stairs and Solomon returned with five others, Jacob and Gregor included.

"Thought you might want the radioman up here, sir." Solomon said to Yoren.

"Good thinking, lad. But I fear there is no one left _to _call. Bring it here."

Solomon beckoned Gregor forward and he did just that. Gregor knelt next to Yoren and handed him the vox piece.

"First squad, first squad come in, this is Commissar Yoren."

No reply.

"Worth a try." Yoren growled, "I suppose I'll try the other Specialist team." He once again raised the piece to his mouth. "Staff Sergeant Cyrus come in, this is Commissar Yoren." Once again there was no reply. He looked around at them all. "Get on with it you lot! Move these wounded and get that bloody Ork out of here."

Those present mobilised immediately. Solomon and Gregor began to prepare Debra Keeli for moving and the rest went to pick up two of the others.

Nathaniel strode down the stairs, his chainsword and his new bolt pistol hanging from his belt. The pistol was proving to be quite cumbersome and he had to put an effort into balancing himself properly as he walked.

At the bottom of the stairs Arashi waited for him. "Sergeant." He said, "What happened up there?"

"An Ork almost killed the Commissar. Preacher Haradal is going to die." Nathaniel said sadly. He had only spoken and prayed with Haradal as few times, but the man had always been kind and had offered counsel when he needed to.

Arashi gave a grimace. "Jonn died, Remi and Cromwell are well and truly dead also."

"Never woulda guessed." Nathaniel said as he looked down at the maimed forms of the two men. Four camouflaged Ork corpses lay around them with different injuries and the hallway air was rank with blood and gunpowder.

"We're moving the wounded to the building across." Nathaniel announced. "So get the guys to bring those two from second over there, we'll handle this lot."

"Aye Sergeant" Arashi nodded. "What's the plan for defending this place? Even with the rest of our team on their way, I feel we're going to be very outnumbered."

"As ever." Nathaniel said with mirth. The sounds of shooting and alien roars were still echoing with the wind every now and again. "But we'll be ready."


End file.
